A Cup of Magic
by ionica01
Summary: Momo helps out her family by working at their cafe- winter is an especially busy period, so she part-times at the coffee shop near the university. This specific place seems to also be loved by an unusual half-white half-red haired boy. Intrigued, Momo takes up the challenge of finding out more about him- and why he's so attached to her shop. TodoMomo coffee shop AU!
1. Chapter 1

Hello everybody!  
I came up with this idea a few days ago and fell in love with it- hard, and without any way to turn back. So here we are, writing this adorable AU. Much like Momo here, I am always overwhelmed with how soothing cafes can be, so I hope I can properly convey these feelings here and make you smile, if only just a bit.  
Either way, you are here for the story, not for my rambles, so enjoy! (I recommend a cup of hot chocolate to go with it:))

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Everything Begins with a Teaspoonful of Mystery**

* * *

Momo stares into the mirror and then at her attire again, checking for creases on her lila apron. It's been a while since she has properly done this. Sure, she filled in for Uraraka when she was sick and she sometimes came in on short notice, when the shop was in dire need of a helping hand, but she hasn't worked three shifts a week since high school.

The ends of the apron are tied in a perfect bow over her waist, her hair is bouncing against the back of her neck in its usual work-ponytail and her smile is fine, she decides after a long examination in the mirror- wide enough to warm up the frozen copies of a smile on her customers' face, not so wide it would seem forced or, even worse, scare them away.

The door to the lockers swings wide open and Uraraka steps in with bouncy steps, closing it again with a small pirouette. "Break time!" she declares as she stretches her hands behind her back. She catches Momo practicing her smile in the mirror and chuckles, "Boss, you already know everybody loves you here."

"Please, Uraraka, it's _Momo_ , or Creati, if you wish" she stresses her name, turning to face her coworker with a look that, Momo hopes, conveys how deeply she cares about this. She doesn't like people at work calling her Yaoyorozu or Boss- it feels like she's their superior instead of their friend. Her parents may own the place, but _A Cup of Magic_ 's core is in its family-like atmosphere, where rankings should be inexistent.

"Calling you Momo while you call me Uraraka feels unfair," the woman fake-pouts, and Momo needs to constrain herself to not pinch her cheeks. Though she's never called her by her first name, Momo feels comfortable around the girl with a gentle smile and uplifting words for anybody. Perhaps that's the secret to her popularity with their young customers- children take a special liking to her.

"Then I'll call you Ochako. Is that better?"

"Perfect," she grins with those adorable dimples and Momo stops her hands before she can do anything impolite. "Now go get them, Momo!" Uraraka- Ochako says and gives her a thumbs up.

The door- if all the post-its and photos taped onto it still allow you to recognize it as such- leads to Momo's favourite place, where her favourite people chit-chat behind the counter, where the steam of freshly brewed coffee tickles everyone's faces and where people take refugee from the cold November.

As soon as she steps into the yellow light of the shop and the smell of coffee and tea feels her lungs, Momo catches herself smiling naturally, and her fears of not rising up to the job vanish as fast as the pain in her lower back- definitely caused by hovering over the microscope for too long.

"Need a hand, Sugarman?" Momo asks as soon as she steps behind the bar, scanning the shop for customers yet to be served. It's still early- the crowd usually forms around 4 p.m., when students pour into the store like waves at high tide.

He looks up from the cake he's frosting and smiles. "Yeah. Can you deliver this to table 13? They've already gotten their drinks," he assures her. Not that he needed to- Sato is the most dedicated barista, and he never fails to deliver a perfectly brewed coffee with a sweet note scribbled on the cup in his artsy handwriting. Saying that the customers love him is an understatement.

Momo glances at his work of art and bites her tongue to keep from licking her lips. "You've outdone yourself," he tells him and it's not flattery. If there is something the customers love even more than Sato, it's his cakes. The Yaoyorozus offered making him their permanent chef, but he humbly declined the offer, saying he wanted to start his own cake shop one day. Momo promised him they'll sign a contract as soon as he succeeds.

"Do you want to try it?" he asks, pointing to the refrigerator. "I saved a piece for you."

"Thank you." Momo's smile widens even more- Sugarman lives up to his name, both on the inside and on the outside.

As soon as Sato is done arranging the M&Ms into a smile, Momo picks it up and heads towards table 13. Unlike the number would suggest, they are very lucky to be sitting there. The coffee shop has a policy of making every customer happy, and a legacy of making them believe in the magic of its name. That's why they deliver a cake on the house to table 13 every day, to erase the bad luck and change the superstition.

She places the carefully decorated cheesecake on the coffee table and offers the female student sitting there a heartfelt beam. She plugs out a earphone and looks at Momo curiously.

"This is a token of appreciation from _A Cup of Magic_ ," Momo politely tells the girl. "Thank you for choosing our shop today."

"But I didn't order-" she starts, but stops herself when she eyes the cake. Unlike Momo, she doesn't stop herself from licking her upper lip. "I won't complain." When her eyes meet Momo's, she doesn't escape the spark in them.

"I hope you enjoy!" she tells her, and means every bit of it.

As the barista makes her way back to the counter, stopping every now and then when a customer asks Creati for a refill or when someone wishes her a good day, Momo wonders what she was anxious about. Putting a smile on people's faces is what her job is about- and it's what she loves doing the most.

From the corner of her eye, she catches a guy sitting across from the lucky cake winner and faintly picks up the words "table 13" and "lucky", and fights back a grin- the shop has managed an association between unlikely terms again. The legend of the lucky 13 has spread widely among their customers, so the staff changes the table numbers each day, sticking a plan on the wall to ease the baristas' job- and to keep the mystery surrounding the lucky table.

When Momo finally makes it back to the counter, a line has begun to shape itself and Sato's working on the orders. Her pace picks up as she slides behind the counter with a kick to her step. Any other worker might have sighed at the load of work awaiting them, but Momo feels giddy and raises a wide smile as she asks the first customer for their order.

 _A Cup of Magic_ has extended far beyond anyone's expectations. What once started as a small coffee shop next to the university was now one of biggest brand names in Japan, with over 10 shops in Tokyo and branches in almost every city.

This first shop holds a special place in Momo's heart- it's the spring of all magic, and also the place where she grew up. As a toddler, she ran between the feet of the older baristas, nagging them with questions about the drinks they were so effortlessly crafting, mixing tea to her heart's content and brewing new combinations each day. Perhaps that was the whole reason why she took an interest in chemistry in the first place.

And then there was this- talking with university students, stressed by exams and worldly worries, offering them a cup of cappuccino and a few kind words. Iida often offered to trade places with her, fearing that this shop in particular was too much for Momo to handle, on top of her lab work, but she always turned him down. She wanted to be a part of the magic- and if this place needed her, she wasn't going to abandon it.

Whenever exams were near, the amount of caffeine the students ingested seemed to double. With Christmas near, it tripled. Two baristas weren't enough for that hectic time of the year, and Momo was more than happy to offer her services four times a week, in the evening.

"I'm back!" Urara-Ochako chirps as she strolls to the grinder and scoops the cup out of Momo's hands. "I can handle the _Molten Enigma_ better than anyone." She accompanies her claim with a confident smirk as she pulls her sleeves up and glides the milk bottle across the table.

Momo could grow used to this- Uravity jumbling up with the ingredients as if gravity didn't hold a stick in front of her.

"No sugar please!" the customer reminds the barista and Ochako flashes him a reassuring smile. Momo guesses her dimples are a kind of magic too, because the customer's features relax into a content look and he seems to forget all about the quiz he was just complaining to Momo about.

There are all types of people in line: an elderly woman who worries about Momo's health all the time; a mother with a kid that tries her hardest not to buy all the sweets Sato has put on display; a guy who seems like the only thing he wants to do is sleep but buys the strongest coffee they have. Momo finds it baffling how many people are drawn into their shop, and she can't help but feel fuzzy when the tickling steam of their beverages urges them to smile.

The cold air blows in whenever somebody enters, but the melody of the wind chimes makes up for it. For every drop of spilt water there's a customer that laughs and waves it off with a simple hand gesture; for every curse muttered there are ten words of praise ringing in the air, and Momo guesses this is what magic is all about: trying to rewrite the mishaps of everyday life.

Momo's shaking the cinnamon jar over a smile-shape on top of a _Vanila Cosmos_ when Sato whispers next to her ear, "He's here again."

Momo smiles coyly and hands the beverage to the woman who shivers when her frozen fingertips touch the cup. She quirks an eyebrow and asks, "Who?"

"The kid who doesn't smile." Sato looks somewhere in the line, and Momo follows his look to notice a boy with red and white hair waiting for his turn. He doesn't seem to wear any sort of readable expression, though he's a bit too far for her to make out anything except the strange hair colours. She finds them surprising, but not aesthetically displeasing.

"Are you talking about the heterochromatic one?" Ochako asks as well, making her way back behind the counter with a dozen empty plates, laughing at gravity yet again. "He's immune to Sugarman's sweets!" she says in a hushed voice, as if they're speaking of the world's greatest criminal. "His notes don't even get him to smile!" she adds, outraged and admirant of his feat at the same time.

"That's impossible," Momo tells them as she jots down another order. "No one can resist them."

"Maybe he's a robot," Ochako thoughtfully notes, and she's completely serious.

"He was already a regular when I started working here," Sato adds, stealing glances as the man advances in line.

Momo's brow furrows. His coming there means he likes the place, right? But still, she thinks to herself while handing Uravity another _Molten Enigma_ , who can resist the kindness of Sato? She's never been directly taking his order, but she has caught glimpses of him every time she filled in for someone, now that she thinks about it. He's always secluded himself in a corner, enveloped by the fragrance of his green tea and immersed in reading a pile of never-ending papers. Studying, Momo supposes.

When Sato comes to the front to take his order, Momo's hand moves before her mind processes her actions. "Let me handle him," she says when her coworker shots her a curious look. She isn't sure why, but the man now waiting to have his order taken intrigues her. A part of her is worried by his lack of interest in the coffee. Another part of her takes this as a challenge- a person that has to be won over by the cafe.

Momo braces herself for the stranger's reaction as she steps to the counter. She looks at the half and half guy, searching for his eyes. If she could catch a glimpse of them, she could maybe read something- anything- in them. Momo herself isn't too sure what she's waiting for- perhaps a clue, or the faint hint of a smile lingering dormant behind his pupils.

To her dismay, his eyes are buried under his white and red bangs, safe from her prying eyes. "Good evening! What would you like?" she asks in her usual tone.

He doesn't even jolt when he hears a female voice instead of Sato's. "Green tea," he says in a monotonous voice, refusing to use the name bestowed by the staff upon this drink, _Calm Blitz_.

"Size?" Creati asks, trying to meet his eyes again. She fails.

"Grande."

"I noticed you often come here, Mr...?"

"Shouto," he says in the same ho-hum tone and she writes the name on the cup, ticking the box corresponding to his order as she continues the idle chattering.

"You seem to come here to study- do you like the ambiance in the shop?" Momo only picks up a faint hum in response and decides he must be shy. "I honestly love it here. Everybody is nice and warm and there's just- it feels magical, wouldn't you agree?"

She hands Uraraka the cup, and when she turns back to her customer- Shouto- she notices him looking at her. His bangs have fallen onto the bridge of his nose, revealing heterochromatic eyes, just like his hair. Beautiful, mesmerising eyes, in which Momo would have lost herself if not for the sound the coins made on the table.

"Do you believe in magic?" he asks while she's putting the money away and typing the receipt. Now that he dropped the lackluster tone, Momo is able to appreciate to modulation in his low voice. Fruity and husky, almost guttural but not quite. It almost sends shivers down her spine.

When she whips her head up to hand him the receipt, his eyes are glued on hers, waiting for the response. "Not in that way," she admits with a smile, tearing her gaze from his and allowing it to trek the shop. "I believe in everyday magic, like looking outside to see a shooting star or meeting a friend randomly in the supermarket." She believes in the magic of this small shop that became a brand in Japan. She believes in the family away from home she found here.

When her eyes fall back on the boy, his are still lost wandering about the shelves full of spices and herbs. There is something whimsical about the way he looks at things, as if he can see more than just their form and colour. It's only when the onyx and blue eyes settle on Momo that she feels the intensity of his gaze, seemingly seeing through her, and through her ideologies and love for _A Cup of Magic_.

"It's nice that you still believe," he says instead of good-bye and heads to where Uravity has just called his name to pick up the drink.

Momo follows him with her eyes until he sits down and takes a thick book and some stapled papers out of his backpack, arranging them on the improvised desk.

"You made him talk!" Ochako tries whispering but almost yells in her ear instead.

Momo would like to be as enthusiastic as her friend about it, but something about the way he said his parting line makes her feel out of place. His voice was laced with sad undertones, and… envy. Perhaps she was reading too much into it- she was prone to that.

But Shouto was a mystery, and Momo was a scientist. Her destiny was to crack any mystery and bring out the truth, after all.

* * *

Well hello (again)!  
I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. It serves more to introduce the cafe and its atmosphere than TodoMomo interactions themselves, but the next few chapters will be overflowing with them (and their contagious cuteness), so I hope you will stick around! This is my first BNHA work, but I love TodoMomo way too much not to pay my respects (and hopefully do them justice).  
If you enjoyed it or smiled even once, let me know by leaving kudos or a comment. Your love keeps me alive and writing!  
Till next time, enjoy a cup of coffee, my dear readers~


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Hello there!

I love this particular AU to bits, so here you have Todoroki and Momo bonding over cakes (unbeknowst even to himself, Sato is the ebst wingman). I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Best Part of a Cake Is the Filling**

* * *

The sound of the wind chimes echoes through the entire cafe, reaching Momo's ears even as she's tidying a table in one of the corners furthest away from the entrance door. She whips her head towards the sound and finds herself disappointed when it's not the half-red half-white haired boy that walks in. She doesn't even know why she expects him to come, or why the thought of his presence makes her feel as giddy as a child the night before Christmas.

Momo catches herself staring outside the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of his hardly usual features, and snaps back to attention, feeling ashamed of herself. Her job is to make everybody happy, and her absent-minded attitude could inconvenience some other customers. Besides, it's not like she has ever talked to him, save for their short discussion yesterday.

"Creati, Happiness Pudding at table 3!" Sato calls, interrupting the admonishing her conscience is giving her- one she fully deserves.

The vanilla pudding is decorated with a smiley face made of melted chocolate and Momo appreciates the way it complements the name of the desert perfectly. She makes a mental note of congratulating Sugarman on his work again as she leaves the girl to savour the vanilla sweetness, basking in the gentle feeling of receiving people's smiles.

* * *

Momo has created some sort of smile collection in a corner of her mind, and keeps gathering images of people letting happiness take over. Shouto's would be a rare item in her set. She shakes her head, trying to push away the thought of him.

When she's about to tap Sato's shoulder and transmit the girl's smile further, enriching his collection of praises for his sweets, she gets pushed by Ochako at the counter. "Your customer is here," she whispers conspiratorially, patting Momo's shoulder and pointing towards the counter.

Sure enough, the boy she has been waiting for ever since her shift started is waiting to have his order taken. She breathes in deeply, pulling herself together.

"The usual?" she asks and he nods without averting his gaze. Momo shudders as the intensity of his mismatched eyes pierces through her again, and she needs her conscience to scream at her before her hands lazily move towards the stacked grande cups.

She hasn't noticed it yesterday, way too preoccupied with his other dazzling features, but the man has a burn around his blue eye. Momo bites the inside of her lower lip to keep herself from thinking about the pain he must have gone through when he got that burn, focusing on the iron taste of the blood spilt in her mouth instead.

"Studying again?" she asks to distract herself, but he doesn't answer. When she gives him his change, Momo catches him staring at her name badge, but he quickly snaps out of it with a nod and heads to the corner where he constantly secludes himself.

Momo's lucky there are other customers in line, because it takes her mind of their exchange- or rather, the one-sided dialogue- which was unfulfilling. She feels like her expectations were betrayed- expectations she herself has built with no rational background, the sensible part of her whispers.

The way he stared at her badge also bugs her. Everybody in the shop has a nickname: Ochako is Uravity, Sato is Sugarman and she, she is Creati. She came up with the name when she was only six and it holds much importance to her. Back then, she claimed she wanted to be a "creator of happiness", hence the name. It marked the start of her smile collection- and it made her a part of A Cup of Magic.

"Still antisocial?" Ochako asks when Sato takes over the counter and Momo joins her at the sink. Momo didn't think her face is that easy to read, or maybe Ochako's that just good at telling what others feel, but she nods with a sigh either way. "Don't let it get to you," her friend says. "Some people are like that."

Antisocial people don't scrutinise you with a look irradiating sadness, Momo wants to tell her, but refrains from doing so. If she gave up that easily, she wouldn't be worthy of the name Creati, she reminds herself and straightens her back.

She's in the middle of placing dishes in the washer when an idea comes to her, and she asks, "Hey Sugarman, do we have any Chocolate Extravaganza left?"

"Yep, I made a whole cake this morning. It's in the fridge."

"Perfect," Momo mutters for herself and loads the dishwasher two times faster. She washes her hands thoroughly once she's done and entrusts Ochako to the counter and Sato to the mixer, diving into the kitchen to fish a piece of the house special- Sato's masterpiece as of yet, his chocolate cake.

With two layers and three different fillings, this cake is an explosion of taste and the best they have to offer. There's bourbon vanilla, ice cream and the perfect mix of caramel and dark chocolate, combined with candy flowers only Sato's hands can craft. The more she thinks about it, the more Momo feels inclined to cut herself a piece, too, but she swallows the drool and tells herself she's above Pavlov's dog.

Once she cuts a perfect piece and places it on a tidy plate, Momo lets a stream of syrop write Smile on top of the cake and admires it. Granted, her handwriting is not as neat as Sato's, nor is the note as sweet or witty, but she thinks her message comes across clearly.

She picks up three other orders on the way, masking her plan in an attempt not to creep Shouto out. Her conscience makes another good show of telling her Shouto doesn't sit on table 13 today and argues that she shouldn't just invade his privacy, but she counters it by paying for the Chocolate Extravaganza with her own pocket money and arguing it's all for the happiness of the customer.

As she delivers the other orders, her smile is distant and her brain is fuming with possible reactions of the boy and how to respond to them. He could be angry, or weirded out, or the worst, he could even stop coming to the shop. Momo mentally scolds herself at the thought- he isn't that kind of person. That kind of person doesn't think that believing is nice.

She gambles her hopes onto this attempt as she puts the plate on his table, a little more energetically than she intended. There is barely enough space between piles of papers with complicated schemes and undefinable formulas.

His head shots up at the sound and he glances at the cake, then gazes at her. His look is impassible today. "I didn't order this," he points out matter-of-factly.

"It's on the house," Momo tells him, opting for the voice that- she hopes- sounds the least weird.

"Is this table 13?" he asks and she smiles. He knows of the legend.

"It's not," she admits. "But you are a regular, and this is a token of our appreciation." Shouto squints at the cake, then his look falls back on Momo. She doesn't know what to make of his eyes, but she knows what not to make of them- anger or sadness are barely in sight. He is just… surprised.

"Sugarman tells me you never order cake, and this is the best we have." As soon as the words leave Momo's mouth, she wonders if it sounds stalkerish. She tries to redeem herself by adding, "And green tea is bitter without something sweet to go with it."

He seems to ponder the utility of the gift for a moment. When he picks up the spoon, Momo lets out a sigh she didn't know she held in. "Enjoy!" She says and turns on her heels, retreating behind the counter and relieving Ochako from the child who's still talking to her.

It's only an hour later that Momo gets back in Shouto's corner of the cafe to tidy up more tables as customers slowly leave, making place for new ones. She peeks at his plate and upon noticing that he ate almost everything, her heart warms up.

She's about to leave again when his low voice reaches her ears. "Uhm, it was good!" he blurts.

Momo spins on her heels in time to see his slightly awkward look and feels a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Only good?" she half teases him, half asks out of sheer curiosity.

"Well, actually, it was delicious," he admits and his shoulders relax, as if the honesty lifted a burden of him.

"I'm sure Sugarman will be more than delighted to hear that," she says, already picturing Sato's small yelp of excitement. No matter how many compliments he receives, he's still over the moon with every customer that enjoys his food.

"Is that how he earned his name?" Shouto asks again, surprising Momo. She didn't really expect him to continue the conversation, given his lack of answer earlier. Then again, a good cake is bound to make one more talkative, isn't it?

"Yes. That and the fact that he can't even hurt a bug." A giggle escapes her as she remembers Sato's reluctance to kill a spider he found in the locker one morning. In the end, Mina squished it mercilessly with her heel, and Sato had tears pricking at his eyes every day he walked in the locker for the whole week.

"And you?" he asks, pointing to her badge.

Momo is about to answer, but quickly decides against it. Saying you want to be a "creator of smiles" is a declaration worthy of praise for a six year old. The 21 years old just finds it embarrassing to say out loud. "That's personal," she mystically says instead.

Shouto looks at her with a deadpan face. From this expression, she feels like the conversation is over and attempts leaving when his voice stops her again. "Then what should I call you?"

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Everybody around here calls me Creati." His nose wrinkles and he stares at her name badge again, as if his look could destroy it. Perhaps he doesn't like the store's nicknames- after all, he didn't like the Calm Blitz either.

"It feels unfair. You know my name," he shifts his look to the cup to make his point.

"Then call me Momo," she offers. Telling him her full name doesn't feel right, and she has a hunch that being the owners' daughter would dissolve any semblance of trust she may have just gained. Besides, she doesn't know his family name either.

"That works," he accepts. "Now we're even, Momo." He tastes her name on his mouth, its consistency and weight, and then he inspects her from head to toe to check if it matches. In the end, he nods, seemingly satisfied and utterly oblivious of the effect his fruity voice and unyielding stare have on Momo.

The way he said her voice has been etched in Momo's head all Wednesday long, repeating with the stubbornness of a broken disc. So when she arrives at work on Thursday, she finally regains part of her control. Knowing that she'll see him is awfully soothing for her mind and soul.

It's this state of calm she's autoinducing through deep breaths over the coffee recipient that Sato interrupts, making her jolt in surprise and choke on the powder.

"That kid said he liked it, Momo!" he shrieks and barely keeps himself from jumping.

Momo takes in a sharp breath, trying not to choke on her own saliva, too. "Who?" she asks in a hoarse voice.

"The half-and-half kid that comes here every day told me he liked the chocolate cake! He told me to 'keep going!'. He even asked me what would go with green tea!" Momo can barely contain a smile as Sato keeps ranting about it, but it's not only for him that she's happy. Knowing that Shouto has attempted conversation makes her feel proud, as if watching her own child accomplish a task all on his own.

"He's a good kid," Sato concludes, wiping away tears that haven't yet rolled down his cheeks with a finger.

"Speaking of the devil," Ochako chimes as she points towards the entrance door. Shouto is indeed walking towards the coffee shop, but stops on the way for a few moments. Momo's view is obstructed by the passersby. "You know, Momo, I think he was looking for you yesterday~" Ochako raises her eyebrows suggestively and smirks. Momo guesses her cheeks are as red as she feels them.

"You're just teasing," she says, surprised when a little part of herself wishes that wasn't the truth.

"Not at all," Ochako counters. Maybe that little part was bigger than Momo thought. "He was stealing glances through the shop and looking lonely."

Momo doubts he looked lonelier than usual, given his unreadable stoic expression, but the thought that her presence was missed makes her warm and fuzzy anyway.

She doesn't have time to worm more information out of Ochako though, because the windchimes ring again and Shouto takes his place in line. Momo feels like all the people in front of him are stalling for time, indecisive or forgetful as they check all their pockets for the money, then their purse, then they remember they had another pocket on the inside of their jacket and finally they realise they can pay with credit card.

When Shouto finally gets in front of her, Momo's cheeks hurt with the constant smile she's been raising.

"Hello," she says again and feels her shoulders slump in relief as his eyes met hers. This time, he isn't piercing through her anymore, instead going for a contemplative look that's just as, if not more, shiver-causing as his piercing gaze.

Momo forces her eyes to look away and fills in the usual order when Shouto asks, "So you don't have shifts everyday?"

It's a good thing she had already written his name, because the jolt of surprise makes the tick go beyond its destined box's frame. "No. I don't work on Wednesdays and weekends," she informs him.

"Oh," is all he says in return and Momo feels that sharp pang of disappointment again. What did she expect him to say?

"Sugarman really is Sugarman," he tells nobody in particular, his gaze fixed on the cakes on display, but Momo can tell he wants her to hear it. She peeks at him, stealthy eyes hidden by her bangs, his look is so serious it makes it impossible to imprison the chuckle. He gives her a questioning look.

"So you understand," she says once she clears her throat.

"Yes." There's a pause while Momo types the receipt. "What's your favorite cake?" Shouto asks again, before she prints the the paper.

"Well I really like the Chocolate Extravaganza, but I think my favourite is High-class Vanilla." Shouto's look is nothing but quizzical, and Momo finds the way he doesn't squint, nor frown and yet ask the question with his mismatched eyes absolutely fascinating. "It's a cake based on a vanilla mix with chocolate bits scattered through."

He seems to ponder that information, like he does with everything she tells him. Eventually, he decides, "I'd like to taste it."

With a wide smile, Momo adds it to his order and recalculates the change. "I'll bring it to your table," she assures him, glancing suggestively at the queue that has doubled in length behind him. Have they chatted for that long?

He follows her look and nods. "I'll wait," he says it like a promise and leaves, letting the next customer- the sleepy guy again- ask for the strongest coffee in the store. He's just as unsociable as Shouto- but at least his injected eyes give him an excuse.

Time passes quicker once Shouto's in the cafe, his presence enough to put Momo at ease and restore the charm of the shop, or even enhance it. Perhaps he became an integral part of the magic in the shop, Momo ponders, or maybe she's just overthinking this again.

"This is it," Momo says as she puts down the cake. "I don't know if it'll suit your taste but- well I think it's fantastic. Then again, everything Sato makes is."

She's about to return to her tasks, but something in Shouto's look pinpoints her. She isn't sure if she's right in her interpretation, but does he want her to… stay?

He says nothing as she stands there, instead gently diving the spoon into the soft filling of the cake, then forcing it to cut through the crunchy base. He closes his eyes as he munches on the piece, and Momo notices his jawline relaxing and his bites becoming less aggressive, allowing him to delight himself in the explosion of taste.

Even after he swallows, he still keeps his eyes closed for a moment and Momo can swear she hears him purr. "You have good taste," is all he says when his eyes split open, before he dives in once again.

Each bite gives fuels his enthusiasm- a feeling Momo wasn't sure he was capable of displaying- and she watches him devour half the cake before he spares her another look. "You know, you can sit down. It feels awkward if you just stand," he points to the plushy chair in front of him.

Despite knowing that work waits for her, Momo complies without complaining, and tries memorising every aspect of his eating face. Perhaps this is the happiest she has seen him yet, as his eyes fill with the joy of trying something tasty, but also with the spark of discovering something new. It's a pleasure to see him so relaxed, all the sadness and envy of their first meeting melting under the vanilla taste.

He stops with his spoon halfway towards his mouth and puts it back down all of a sudden, to Momo's surprise. "I'm sorry," he says, starting her. "I should have realised that this was your favourite dish and I just ate without inviting you so-"

"No, no, it's fine," Momo brushes off his concern, trying not to laugh. She never expected him to be worried about that, but that's just proof of the mystery Shouto is, and also a clue to help her crack him: he's kind.

"But really, this is amazing!" he says and his eyes lit up as they meet hers, his blue one clear as the summer sky and his dark one melted by his excitement. Even his fruity voice is higher than usual, which is still low, but it's also very pleasing to Momo's ears. "The consistency is perfect, not too thin, yet neither too thick, and the chocolate chips are evenly distributed." He marvels at the fine work that went into it and Momo reminds herself he only just became acquainted with Sato's work.

"And the base layer is crunchy, which makes it perfectly complement the cream, right?" she joins him in praising their cook.

"Yes! But still, the filling is the best part of a cake," he concludes in all seriousness. Shortly thereafter, he follows with a sigh. "You're getting me addicted to this stuff!" he accuses Momo, though there is a hint of a joke in his voice.

"I won't apologise for that," she says in return. "This is actually me doing you a service. You would have lived your life without knowing how heaven tastes," she points out.

"Then would you say that me meeting you is magic?" he asks and his gaze morfes into that piercing look again, the one that Momo can't avoid and knows will draw the truth out of her.

"Maybe?" It comes out like a question. "I think that's something you should decide for yourself."

"There isn't enough data to draw a conclusion." He talks like a scientist- Momo can find a common point there.

"Then you should gather more. You just found out my favourite dessert today, and I found out you like the filling more than the layers. Let's keep at it."

He doesn't take as long as usual to ponder this suggestion. "Sure," he says in response and gives off the smallest of smiles. His lips barely crook, but he's definitely smiling, because there's a sparkle dancing in his eyes and the skin creases near their corners.

Momo was right- this was precious. She engraves the moment in her mind, carving it into her memory with every fiber of her being, and it leaves her grinning as an idiot in return.

"What was that?" Ochako asks when Momo storms back with more energy than before and proceeds to fix three cups of tea at the same time.

"He just told me how much he loves the cake filling," Momo smiles knowingly.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** In which Shouto becomes part of the family, and Momo puts him at ease subconsciously. Also in which Sato is just more of a nice guy and Mina is a general badass, but is weak to good chocolate.

I didn't intend to write more about cakes (I promise this is NOT a bakery AU!) but this just came to me, so... Hopefully you'll like it!

* * *

 **Chapter 3: There Is a Reason Why the Secret Ingredient Isn't Shared**

* * *

"This," Momo points to the plate between them with a tone that instills mystery, "is the newest recipe. It hasn't been tried by any other customer yet, so it needs to be kept a secret."

"And I am trying it because…"

"Because I trust your taste buds," Momo states and points to the cake as an invitation, one which Shouto readily accepts, without questioning her reasoning more than necessary. Momo likes that about him- he doesn't ask too many questions, but poses the vital ones.

Yesterday evening, a customer brought it to Sato's attention that A Cup of Magic didn't serve mousse. After the cook mulled it over the entire night, he came to work first thing in the morning and locked himself in the kitchen the whole day, researching the creamy dessert. He asked both her and Mina to taste his first batches, but Momo couldn't help but feel that something was… lacking. She told Sato as much, and Mina shared her vague impression, but Sato claimed that he tasted so many versions of this that he no longer had the capacity of taking another bite without wanting to puke, and promised to fix it the next day.

That didn't stop Momo from noticing how his shoulders are slumped, and his steps miss the usual kick that made him seem to float over the floor from customer to customer. He doesn't flush his teeth when smiling like he usually does, and she often catches him staring blankly at the menu throughout the day.

As such, asking Shouto for advice isn't only a pertinent excuse to talk more with him, but also an action she feels is necessary at this point. Sato isn't easily brought down, but failing in his field of work is a sensitive issue.

Mina is all over the Friday customers, and the situation is mostly under control without Momo's input, so she sits down in front of Shouto and scans his face for any details. "So?" she asks as he rolls the chocolate in his mouth as long as he can, trying to decipher its taste.

"It's… bland," he says eventually. "The rest of the sweets here have something special but this- I could buy it in the supermarket." Another thing about Shouto, Momo discovers, is that he is very blunt and spares nobody from his sharp tongue.

"Figured," she sighs and leans in her seat, but is careful not to sprawl her legs or enter his comfort zone. "I don't even know how to fix it. I mean, the consistency is alright and the taste isn't bad per se, but-"

"It isn't A Cup of Magic-ish, either," Shouto finishes her sentence better than she could have and nods. Her thoughts fly away from their discussion topic for a moment to marvel at the fact that sitting across from him feels so natural, and that there's no tension in his attitude or apprehension in his voice as they talk. Granted, they aren't anything more than acquaintances, but Momo feels at ease with the mere prospect that they could be more.

"What are you usually putting in the desserts? Are there any secret ingredients? Perhaps that can give us a clue," Shouto says, bringing her back to their problem.

"Not really. Sato says it's just love." Shouto gives her a fazed look and she explains, "That's Sugarman's real name."

Shouto gives a small nod, as if to prove he's received the information and is storing it safely. A comfortable silence lingers between them, giving Momo the opportunity to admire Shouto's long eyelashes and the way the scar he bares bites into the smooth skin without uglying it. She feels an impulse to touch it, even more powerful than the one to pinch Ochako's cheeks, but laces her fingers together to stop herself from doing it. That doesn't prevent her from watching him as intently as she can without staring, wondering what story hides behind that scar, and behind the mismatched eyes that guard Shouto at all times.

Her eyes drop to the scattered papers he's always immersed in and she analyses them for a few moments. They look like engines, but Momo isn't well enough versed in this domain to tell. She can, however, tell that he's very detail-oriented, because next to each sketch there are notes and question marks, and alternative models. There must be a whole other world that hides behind this pages, just as complex as Shouto himself is, probably just as engaging as Food Chemistry is for Momo.

"I'm sorry to constantly interrupt your studying," she says all of a sudden.

He looks at her as if she broke him out of a daze, and slowly focuses in on her eyes. "You don't need to be sorry. Talking to you is pleasant." Momo jolts in surprise, but he doesn't notice. "I think these are good brakes for me. Besides, I'm also keeping you from going to work," he adds and spares a glance to the counter.

Momo follows his look there. "I should probably get back," she admits more to herself than to him, because saying it out loud makes it an obligation. "Good luck with your studies!" she wishes him as she pushes the chair back and heads to the counter.

"I got it!"

Momo is calling a customer- Tsuyu, her cup says- when Shouto skips the greetings to dump this realisation on her. He's leaning against the counter as Momo proceeds to call a certain Fumikage and keeps talking to her when she shoots him a puzzled look.

"What the mousse missed," Shouto explains as if that makes everything click.

"You've thought about it?" Momo asks, mildly surprised. She expected him to give up after he couldn't tell from the first try.

"I wasn't supposed to?" Shouto asked confused as Momo proceeds to throw ice and milk and strawberries in the mixer. Who orders milkshakes in november? Well, certainly this customer called Bakugou.

She meets Shouto's look only to let him see her reassuring smile- or so she tells herself, but a small part of her is curious as to how wide his range of facial expressions is. Encouraged, he continues, "I think it needs something fresh. Maybe mint, or lemon? But something like forest fruits would work, too."

"Ah, it would definitely make it less sweet! That's a great idea, Shouto!" He looks pleased with himself when she praises him. "We need to tell Sato! Bakugou!" she calls the customer and then whips her head around the cafe, looking for Sugarman. Momo easily spots him talking with a delighted customer, and smiles at his blushing face. He seems better- maybe a few compliments batted the self-doubts away.

"Okay then, I'm going to go-"

"Where do you think you're going?" Momo's stern and disapproving look is enough to stop Shouto. "It was your idea- you have to talk with Sato, too."

He looks fazed for a moment, lost in her determination, and there seems to be an inner battle between persuading himself to stay and ignoring her to go back in the safety zone, were strange eyes don't pry in his affairs. Seeing the conflicted look makes Momo feel guilty that she pushed him into it, but then he asks, "Wouldn't I be a bother?"

Momo blinks her bewilderment away slowly, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words- words that came out in a shaky voice, much unlike his usual collected one. "What are you saying? You used to be Sato's customer- I'm sure he'd like to hear your thoughts on the mousse."

Shouto's face relaxes into a relieved one, and he looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. But then he quirks an eyebrow at her, and it disappears under the mass of white hair. "So I'm your customer now?" he concludes, no fluctuation in his tone to give away how he feels about this.

Momo is taken by surprise by the question, and is saved only by calling the next customer to get his drink. When she turns to look as Shouto, he's leaning against the wall with a lazy, mildly amused face. Momo would be lost admiring that crooked smile if not for the blush that quickly raises to her cheeks. He's pinning her with his eyes, and she feels she can't escape the sincerity of the black hole that opens in his pupils, as if wanting to suck the truth out of her.

"You are," she mumbles, but he hears her nonetheless.

When Momo dares look up from the mixer again, Shouto's eyes have softened into a fond look, jos black eye reminiscent of melted coal and the blue one of calm waves crashing against the shore. It's a strange combination, but the feeling that wraps around Momo is warm and it puts a smile on her face easily.

"I like having you as my barista," Shouto says and for a few seconds, Momo is sure she misheard him, because no muscle on his face betrays any sort of insincerity. But then she realises his mouth moved, so unless her brain is wired in the wrong way, she heard him right. When she doesn't answer, he continues, "You're easy to talk to, and you always put people in a good mood."

Momo almost forgets she needs to call out to the customers, but the hot drinks that burn through her fingers are enough to remind her. "You're also a good customer," she says after the people leave with their drinks. "You don't complain and you aren't loud. And honestly-" she whispers conspiratorially, as if she's letting him in on a secret "-you seem like you're part of this cafe."

Shouto opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted when Sato walks back in to take two more orders and Momo remembers she was looking for him. "Sugarman, Shouto has a suggestion for the mousse."

Sato's eyes dart from Momo to the half and half customer, and he tilts his head, confused.

"I got him to try your newest recipe and he came up with a good way to improve it," Momo says and looks towards Shouto with a glimmer in her eyes, hoping he'll take the hint and start talking to Sato.

Shouto seems to ponder his choices for a brief moment, but reaches a conclusion easier than usually. "I was thinking of adding something fresh," he says, meeting Sato's look. "Something to dampen the sweetness."

Sato's eyes lit up, and if not for the plates in his hands, he would definitely clapped them together. "Lemon," he says at the same time as Shouto, and the two give each other an excited look before Sato says, "Brilliant!" He turns to Momo with a look that she reads immediately.

"I'll take care of the orders. You can take over the kitchen." She bites back a grin as she sees the gratitude in Sato's eyes and his earlier nausea dissipates into pure excitement. His shoulders square without him noticing, and the spark in his eyes is back- and it's there to stay.

"Thank you, Creati!" is all he says before he skips into the kitchen. It takes him only a few seconds to realise he's forgotten something, and peeks into the cafe again, waving for Shouto to follow him.

The latter points to himself incredulously, and then meets Momo's look to assure himself he isn't dreaming. A chuckle escapes her as she pulls the door into the "behind the bar" space for him.

"Are you sure?" he asks with a foot floating over the boundary between the two universes, looking at the floor as if his steps could turn it to ice.

"Of course," Momo laughs. "Go, and have fun."

Shouto tears his eyes from the floor and gives her a smile wider than she thought he could, and so genuine it weakens her knees. If this isn't wizardry, Momo doesn't know what is. He doesn't need to thank her, but does so anyway.

Momo is sweeping the floor when she hears Mina scream. She doesn't even think twice about dropping the broom to the ground and running towards the source of her voice- which is, unexpectedly, the kitchen. As far as she knows, Mina doesn't have any reason to scream in the kitchen- she is handy enough around acid and scalpels that knives should not pose a threat. What's more, she doesn't usually scream- she didn't when she saw a spider. What could the kitchen hide that's scarier?

What awaits her behind the door makes Momo still, her eyes wide- and it's not in horror that they become the size of teacups, but because the kitchen counter can barely be seen under the glass cups upon glass cups and even coffee cups that are filled with chocolate mixes- there's white chocolate and dark chocolate, caramel, mint, and coconut milk. The fragrances mix surprisingly well, but Momo's head is bombarded with visual information that doesn't allow her to process the hints of cinnamon in the air.

Mina is safely tucked between empty glasses of chocolate, and her brown lips betray where the content of the recipients has disappeared.

"What happened?" Momo asks, not entirely sure if she should sound amused or outraged, so she sounds neither, voice flat and eyes not betraying the inner war inside.

Sato licks his spoon- Momo hadn't even noticed him next to Mina, which in any other circumstances would be an accomplishment in itself, given Sato's size- and says, "Well Alien Queen entered the kitchen and starting lecturing us about making a mess, but Shouto offered her a mousse and now she's helping us destroy the evidence."

Momo doesn't know if she should smack her forehead or laugh, so she decides to do neither and instead looks at Shouto. He immediately raises a chocolate cup in her direction, tempting her to join them.

"Food won't solve this mess," she points around to the tables filled with different sorts and colours of mouss, and she feels a sigh resurfacing. "What did you guys even do?"

"We tried different refreshing aromas," Shouto states matter-of-factly, but not innocently. "Turns out, not everything can be mixed with chocolate."

"The mint one is good, though," Mina piques up and stretches her hand to get another cup.

"Yes, but it tastes like chocolate mint ice cream. Not original," Sato sighes.

Momo leans against the closed door of the kitchen and feels her head hit something that doesn't have the consistency of the metal she was expecting. She turns around to see papers pinned to the interior of the door, post-its with crossed out words and recognises a list of possible ingredients. There's the neat handwriting of Sato, highlighting possible flavours they could try out, and underneath are ten or so more additions in a different handwriting, one that Momo recognises from the complicated formulas as Shouto's.

"You guys even tried passion fruit?" she almost laughs.

"Yes, it's over here," Shouto points to a place close to where he is leaning against the kitchen island. "I don't recommend it, though," he says and his nose wrinkles in disgust.

Now that her brain has processed the visual mess- and feels quite endeared to see Shouto wearing a chocolate-stained apron, though that is besides the point- she has time to fill her lungs with the smell of melted truffles, and her stomach rumbles.

Blood floods her cheeks when she notices Shouto shaking the cup in front if her eyes again, in an invitation to fill her stomach, and she doesn't ignore him anymore, also accepting the spoon he offers. "That's the mint one- I think it's the best batch."

Momo hums as she takes a bite, and the hum melts into a pleased exclamation.

"Good?" Sato asks.

"Very," Momo praises and stuffs more in her mouth. The grumbles die out in a harmony of pleased exclamations and comments, and Momo leans besides Shouto, apparently the only place in the whole kitchen not stained by chocolate. The background noise of spoons scratching the walls of the cups for more chocolate accompanies the sudden "Is this lemon?" or "Ugh, I found a passion fruit one! Water, water!"

She takes in the kitchen again, now half-filled with empty bowls and four adults that diligently lick their plates- literally. Maybe it's because her stomach isn't empty anymore, but it looks more than just an utter mess- it looks like work and passion went into creating every single pot in there, and she can't help but smile.

Momo stretches her hands and rubs her lower back- she really should take Iida's advice and go jogging with him every once in a while. The microscopes reveal secrets of worlds she even forgets exist, but they also remind her she is only human- and the jab of pain she feels is proof of that.

She hangs her lab coat back on the hanger and pulls her jacket on, fishing for her keys to lock the laboratory and secure her research into the perfect viscosity of the sauce and how it affects the taste buds. It's already noon- her stomach tells her that before she checks her watch- and she ponders whether she should cook at home of grab something to eat on her way and gulp it down while going over her homework for Monday.

The decision is made when she answers her buzzing phone.

"Yaomomo, they're at it again!" Mina whines on the other end of the call, and Momo can hear Kendo's unmistakable voice as she calls out customers to take their drinks in the background.

"They?" Momo's brow furrows in confusion.

"They took over the kitchen!"

Momo's frown only deepens, knitting into the clear skin of her forehead. The only one who stepped into the kitchen was Sato, and herself when needed.

"What?" she hears on the other end of the call. "Why do you want to talk to her?"

"Mina, what's going on?"

Before she can receive an answer, the phone falls in someone else's hands and Momo hears a deep, fruity voice say her name. "Is this Momo?"

"Shouto?" she questions, both intrigued as to why he'd want to talk to her and flustered to hear his voice so close to her. It's as if he's whispering in her ear- and the thought alone is enough to give her goosebumps.

"Listen, we really need you to come. Sugarman and I have some more batches that we're confident in- but we need someone to try them out." The phone makes his voice more gutural, something which doesn't bother Momo, except that she has to check if she has a fever or if her cheeks are just that flushed.

"Okay, sure. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"That was fast," Shouto says instead of hello when she steps into the kitchen. She was expecting the same level of unruly experimenting as the day before. Instead, she is met with exactly 12 cups- she knows because they are labeled- neatly arranged into a line, each of them on top of a paper on which the recipe is scribbled.

"Well, I was at university," Momo shrugs and fastens the tie on her lila apron. "Now, where do I start?"

"I recommend batches 4, 7 and 8. They are the best, though you can try them all if you want."

Momo decides to trust Sato's words and go with batches 4, 7 and 8- sweets don't substitute a proper meal, after all. She picks up a spoon and asks, "Why are you guys here anyway? Mina seemed exasperated."

"Well, yesterday was a great starting point, so today we decided to continue," Sato simply explains, as if he's telling a toddler that the sky is blue. Momo guesses cooking is just that deeply engraved in his being that it even became part of his DNA, and wonders if being in the kitchen is associated with survival on a daily basis for Sato.

"Sugarman had this great idea to make the mousse into halves instead if mixing the ingredients together," Shouto adds, pointing to number 4 in Momo's hand. Indeed, instead of the usual, uniform color, the mousse is divided into two parts: a dark chocolate one and a pink, probably raspberry mix. "It was too good of an idea to let it rest until Monday."

Momo eats her smile with the raspberry and chocolate mix, and hums as the taste melts her mouth and her taste buds chocolate is subtle, only slowly growing to take over the raspberry that meets the tongue with the impact of a well- delivered fist. "Amazing! You can feel the aroma better than if you mix them together!"

Sato and Shouto say nothing, eagerly waiting for her to try the other two. She humors them, and takes a bit out of the coffee-cocos one and the last one, which seems to be lemon sorbet with caramel. All odd combinations, and all equally delicious. It takes all she has not to lick her lips in delight.

"So?" Sato asks, barely containing his excitement.

"I love them!" Momo smiles widely. "These are just great! However, I do believe we should only start by putting one on the menu, and then slowly enrich our variety." Both men nod. "And as much as number 7 is my personal favourite, customers may not fancy coffee or may have an allergy to coconut. So let's go with batch 4."

"That's what I thought," Sato nods and begins to store the rest, adding the recipes to his thick notebook. Momo can't wait to see the good reception this dish will doubtlessly receive and give Sato the green light to figure the other batches in the window shop.

She feels Shouto's eyes on her and turns around to see admiration painted in them. "I never thought of that," he says and his voice is nothing if not full of respect. His eyes coat her with a warm feeling, and she is touched by his honesty. "That's what makes you such a great barista," he adds.

It's that day that Momo learns a new thing about Shouto- he compliments as easily as he he breathes, and it only serves to make him a more complicated puzzle.

* * *

 **AN:** Hello again!

This chapter has been another blast to write- I love this AU to death! Unfortunately, my laptop is undergoung repairs now, so updates won't be as frequent with my old tablet here. But there is more TodoMomo, and next chapter also features more Uraraka, and even more sweetness (with more frank Todoroki making Momo melt, but also Momo being surprisingly sweet).

Your love keeps me alive! Thank you for all the support, and till next time with a cup of hot chocoalte (should change this with 'with a piece of cake' lol)!


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hello dear customers!

As promised, less cake, more drinks this time (if you can call it that? It's not really drink-centred). Either way, I'm sorry this chapter is shorter, but a lot has been going on.

In which Ochako starts interacting with Shouto and instantly accepts him into the family (also, it just may be the start of her Todomomo shipping spree, but more about that later).  
I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 4: What's Hidden Behind the Name**

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Opening the door to the cafe is like walking through a portal to a different dimension: the buzz and chitter-chatter, along with the sound of spoons stirring the honey in the tea mugs instantly surrounds Momo, replacing the isolation of the bathroom with the warm feeling of belonging. Sometimes, she feels like the cafe is a living organism, just as alive as the cells she studies every day, just as prone to evolving as they are.

Spotting Shouto is easy- he's always sitting at the same table, and his bicolored hair isn't exactly unnoticeable. He's drinking his _Calm Blitz,_ part of the cafe like an organelle- maybe he's a mitochondria, Momo reasons.

She can't deny the pang of disappointment she feels- she wasn't there to take his order, which means she didn't get to talk to him today. However, simply observing his focused look as he deciphers the notes is rewarding- he has this way of swirling his pen between his index and middle finger while he's thinking that almost hypnotises Momo.

Perhaps he feels her staring, but he looks up and meets her eyes. He nods in greeting and tilts his head in an invitation for her to sit next to him. At least that's how Momk interprets it- and he doesn't look weirded out as she closes in on his table, so she's most likely right.

"Is Uravity okay?" he asks as soon as Momo is within hearing range, sparing the barista in question a worried look. "Her face seemed very… red earlier," he adds, to Momo's concern. Ochako seemed just fine at the start of her shift- what has happened?

"I'll go check and let you know," she tells Shouto and leaves, the concern for her friend outclassing the interest for her customer.

Momo schools her face into that of a pleasant barista doing her best, and avoids the 'worried friend' look. Time has taught her that displaying your emotions made some feel uncomfortable, especially when it's their health that put the wrinkles on your face in the first place.

So Momo slides behind the counter as per usual and picks up a cup from Sato's hand to join Ochako near the cupboards brimming with herb mixtures. She fishes the vanilla and rooibos tea, without needing to read through the labels- after all, it was her that arranged them in the first place, and some mixes, such as the _Rooibos Whisper_ , are her creation from scratch.

Momo steals a sideways glance at her friend, but notices nothing out of the ordinary. Ochako's cheeks are their usual rosy colour, and she even hums a small tune as she filters the herbs out of the steaming hot water and lets the tea stream into a paper cup.

"You seem in a good mood," Momo remarks, trying not to let her curiosity leak and sliding the pot out of Ochako's hands to wash it. "Did something good happen?"

Ochako hums out of her little bubble of joy and smiles brightly. Her cheeks redden, and she presses both palms against them, covering her eyes half-way.

Momo tilts her head, giving up on keeping her curiosity in check. "What is it?" she pushes Ochako, poking at her shoulder. "Come on," she grins when Ochako flushes even redder. That sounds like Mina, Momo catches herself thinking and pulls her hand from Ochako's shoulder, but she talks anyway.

"You know that necklace Deku-kun gave me?" Momo nods- Ochako was absolutely ecstatic when her boyfriend gave her the silver necklace with a heart pendant. Momo's eyes dart to Ochako's neck and catch the sparkle of the item that hasn't left the nape of her neck since her last birthday. "That half-and-half guy said it suits me! And when I told him it's from my boyfriend, he said 'Well, he has good taste.'"

Momo can imagine Shouto saying that with a stoic look, and understands immediately why Ochako's face was flushed. A smile curls about her lips.

"So you've been reminded of Midoriya?" The wild red that covers Ochako's cheekbones is a loud enough answer. "How long has it been since you last saw him?"

"He couldn't make it to the Halloween party, so… two weeks?" The grin on Ochako's face dampens. "He's busy with his project and my training sessions are insane," she deadpans. "But we talk daily!" Momo's smile withers and she gives Ochako a friendly rub on the back. She smiles gratefully, but fails to keep in an ever-growing sigh. "It's just- I miss him."

"I'm sure he misses you too."

"I know," the woman sighs again. "Autumn is just so hectic, you know? And exams are coming up soon, so we probably won't get to see each other until December. So this-" Ochako touches her necklace with a faraway look "-is really important to me. And it's nice that strangers see it as part of my look, because that's like saying that Deku-kun is part of me."

Momo can't help but hug her friend, ignoring the fact that she's holding two hot cups of tea. Ochako awkwardly nuzzles her nose against Momo's hair, unable to move her hands without spilling the drinks.

"Thanks, Momo."

Creati just hums in return.

"Uravity is okay," Momo assures Shouto after she chats with the customer sitting at the table next to his, delivering his order.

"That's good," the man agrees, stealing a glimpse at the bar. He squints, as if his eyes are focusing in on Ochako. "She looks somewhat… refreshed?"

"She is," Momo chuckles. Shouto gives her a baffled look, oblivious to the consequences of his compliment, and Momo changes the subject swiftly. "By the way, Sato wanted you to name the mousse."

"Name it?" Shouto repeats, as if the words haven't sunken it just yet. "Me?" His mind obviously doesn't label the association as possible.

"Yes. He says you played a part in the making, so you should name it."

Shouto seems lost in thought for a few moments. "How do you name a dessert?" he muses, and Momo isn't sure whether he's talking to himself or to her. His eyes dart to her lazily, and they linger there, aimlessly searching for something. It seems like forever until he mutters, "Onyx."

Momo's breath catches in her throat, and she wonders whether she heard him right. "I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing," he says and Momo thinks he must have just been thinking up possible names for the mousse. She doesn't understand how _onyx_ could have anything to do with it, though.

Shouto looks very tired when he reaches the counter the next day. There aren't bags under his eyes, but a misty fog is courtaining the intelligent glint in his mismatched eyes, as if his sleep has been troubled.

Momo begins to fill in the usual when he stops her, "Actually, I'd like Hot Chocolate today."

"Oh?" She ticks accordingly and throws him a somewhat intrigued sideway glance. "May I ask what caused the change?"

There's a pause, and when Momo looks up to him, he's biting his lower lip thoughtfully. The gesture fits his image so perfectly that she finds it hard to unglue her eyes from his lips- it's as if he's literally munching over his thoughts, tasting his words before he spits them, filtering them before letting them leave the prison of his mouth.

"I've been thinking of the name-thing, and I figured that tasting something different will give me an idea? I mean, I want to see why the _Molten Enigma is_ a _Molten Enigma_."

Momo hides a small smile. Has that kept him awake? "Well, I hope you find your inspiration."

"Isn't this where you say something like 'The magic will come to you?'" He raises an eyebrow and thins his voice. His eyes betray both amusement and genuine curiosity.

Momo is on the boundary between laughing out loud or feeling insulted by his awful impersonation of her. However, the exchange caused the fog in his eyes to clear a bit, so she decides to take it seriously.

"Magic won't solve your problems, Shouto. Only hard work can get you anywhere- magic just cushions your path."

She sees him deflate, yet his eyes flicker, as if he's achieved something. She doesn't question it as she gives him back his change, along with a warm smile. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Being subtle proves to be hard when your last customer doesn't seem to realise that the sound of the broom brushing against the sparkling clean floor is a clue to leave. Momo steals the tenth exasperated glance at Shouto, who is intently staring at his hot chocolate mug, and finally gives up. With a sigh, she abandons the broom next to a wall, pretends not to hear Ochako's chuckle, and sits down in front of Shouto. He doesn't jerk when the chair screeches against the floor, nor when Momo leans her forearm on the table.

"You look troubled," she states the obvious.

He lazily looks up to her and his shoulders slump. "It's impossible," he whispers, and his eyes widen slightly, as if saying it out loud makes the weight of the truth suddenly fall on him. "How do you guys name _these things_?" He sounds absolutely horrified- well, he actually sounds just a bit unarmed, but anything other than stoic is an extreme reaction for Shouto.

Momo reminds herself that laughing at one's problems, no matter how trivial, is rude, yet the way he takes this so seriously is endearing. A small part of her mind registers another chuckle from Ochako, who's cleaning up the bar, but she dismisses it, far too occupied with trying not to laugh at Shouto's dejected expression.

"Usually, we think of something fun." His face remains blank. "We try to figure out what was involved in the process of making that dish or drink and then we kinda code it." His face still doesn't betray any "enlightenment", so Momo points to his cup.

"The _Molten Enigma_ is Uravity's. When she first started working here, she made a bet with Mina that she could make better hot chocolate than the powder we used. Fifteen minutes later, Mina called me saying we _needed_ to get this on our menu. It was indeed delicious, but when I tried asking Ochako how she did it, she said it was her little secret."

"So… Enigma."

"Exactly. The _molten_ part is more of an allusion to the hot chocolate."

"Well, it _is_ pretty dense," Shouto hums, tracing the mug's outline with his finger. "That's a fitting name. I thought it was more like-" he stops himself all of a sudden, and his eyes lose their focus into the brown mix.

"Like?" Momo encourages him.

His voice is uncertain when he speaks again, "I thought it was something that went deeper, like the feelings you get when you drink the hot cocoa and this strange fuzziness spreads from your stomach to your guts and then floods your system."

Momo covers her mouth with a hand so that Shouto can't see the smile she can't suppress. She has no right to think that him opening up like this is her achievement- it's probably the _Molten Enigma_ that did it.

"That's what's great about names," she says in return. "Everyone finds their own meaning in them, and it doesn't have to be the intended one, as long as it makes the moment special to them. It's just like art, I think- everybody brings a part of themselves into their interpretation, and that's truly meaningful."

She doesn't notice Shouto staring at her until he speaks up, and his voice is so soothing that it makes her search for the warmth in his eyes again. "Adventure," is the only word that leaves the gates of his parted lips.

Momo says nothing, because she knows he's searching for his own meaning in her eyes, and she lets him roam around until he finds it. He eventually regains his composure and dares a faint smile.

"I think I got it."

" _Creamy Adventure_?" Shouto nods, gulping as he waits for Sato's verdict. His eyes dart from the customer and newly initiated cook to the dessert, and his head bobs as he considers it. Momo wonders if he's just putting up a show or if he's really thinking, until the small creases around his eyes betray him.

Sato eventually meets Momo's look for approval. She nods gravely, as if they are treating a matter of utmost importance. Ochako nods with them, stiff as a board when Shouto glances at her, but hiding a thumbs up when Momo winks. "It passes," the cook eventually declares.

"Really?" There's a flicker of excitement in Shouto's eyes as he checks for honesty in the three baristas, and Momo can tell with a single glance that they all find his reaction adorable. Momo steels herself for the squeals Ochako will doubtlessly give her once they're alone, and smiles at the thought.

"Really," she says out loud, masking their game under a serious tone. "It's _A Cup of Magic_ ish."

"We are proud of you," Uravity adds and can't help patting his shoulder.

"You have gotten into the spirit!" Sato also praises him.

Momo notices Shouto stealing a glance at her and smiles encouragingly. She's never seen him so needy or… vulnerable. If it was anyone else, she'd say it was just normally asking for recognition, but like this- he looks like he wants confirmation more.

"Thank you," the boy bows all of a sudden, startling everyone.

"What are you doing? Get up!" Ochako awkwardly says, she and Sato fussing over the boy as they weaver between pulling him up and bowing themselves- they end up doing both.

Momo doesn't, however, because her mind is busy trying to understand that last glimpse of his face that she caught. There was something hidden in his features, a feeling that he certainly didn't display often because his mouth was crumbled into a clumsy smile and his eyes were bashfully looking for an escape, but not because he didn't enjoy himself- rather, it seemed like this was _new_ for him.

When he looks up again, something clicks in Momo's mind and the word she was looking for pops up: gratefulness.

"Stop being so polite," Ochako says and playfully jabs at his shoulder. "You're part of the family now!"

Shouto's lips part and his face softens into an unasked question. "Family?" he finally asks when he realises the word was so natural for the group that they didn't need to explain it.

"Yes of course! Once you step behind the bar you're one of us! Even more so if you've named a dish!" Ochako's smile appears to be dazzling for Shouto, because he blinks as if she's the sun, but his cheeks also warm with a dust of blood as if she burnt him, and he smiles like a kid that proudly smashed his first watermelon with his eyes closed.

If anything, his smile seems to have even more of an effect on Ochako, because she backs away a few steps before launching herself towards him and yelling "Family hug!"

Sato and Momo know it's their cue to follow her and tangle their hands around each other, awkwardly sandwiching Shouto between them. For a moment, Momo's afraid there's too much affection for Shouto, but the grateful smile he wears on his face and the way he strangely wraps his hands around Momo and Ochako's shoulders, drawing them closer as he gains confidence is enough to tell her otherwise.

 _Family_ \- it's probably something he has been longing after for a long while.

* * *

Hello again!  
So Shouto is now officially family- and he is also officially adopted by A Cup of Magic. Their "must protect" senses are tingling. I know this doesn't have a lot of Todomomo, but I've paved the way for a full todomomo chapter next time- plus, you can't tell me you don't love all of his interactions with the gang at the cafe, I mean come on! I love everybody's chemistry! (Pun absolutely intended- forgive me, I'm chemistry trash).  
I hope you've enjoyed! Thank you for all the kudos and kind words- your love keeps me alive!  
Till next time with a cup of hot chocolate~


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Kyouka is too much of an influence on Momo's music taste- but that proves useful when it helps her connect with Shouto, aka the fluffiest TodoMomo chapter yet, with an ungodly amount of music refrences and more cuteness.

Hello again!  
I'll use this to explain some things:  
-Adagio is the slow and leisurely rhythm of a piano (see a partiture)  
-the musical pieces the characters refer to throughout this chapter are, in order:  
1)One day, my prince will come - Miles Davis  
2)Moanin' - Art Blakey  
3)Dat Dere- Art Blakey  
4)Another One Bites the Dust- Queen  
5)Bohemian Rhapsody- Queen  
You can listen to them while reading, for the full experience:)

* * *

 **Chapter 5: The Adagio Rhythm of their Hearts**

* * *

The little corner where the staff members deposit their music is an old room in the back of the shop, where the light bulbs take one whole minute before flickering to life. Despite the coat of dust that keeps the curtain's place- Momo makes a mental note of cleaning this room soon- the place is nothing if not welcoming. It has the wistful air of an old record shop, with the dozens of vinyl discs, tapes and CDs lining up the walls. Many of them have been bought by Momo over the years, especially the classical music ones. The newer pop, upbeat songs are Ochako's contribution, whereas the rock corner is all Mina's doing.

But today, Momo is searching for the jazz collection that was courtesy of her best friend, Kyouka. She doesn't know exactly why, but she feels like listening to the trumpets and piano that the cafe seems to lack. Maybe it's because the days are getting ever shorter and the long nights reek of jazz, or maybe it's because November feels so empty between Halloween and Christmas that Momo associates it with the lonely tunes of _Someday, my prince will come_.

She runs a finger over the spine of the music collection, scanning for the rusty old cover of the vinyl disc. It's a precious gift she received from Kyouka on her sixteenth birthday, and it was probably what allowed her to finally understand her friend, whose life was so deeply woven together with music that Momo couldn't tell whether she made music or music made her.

She finally finds the disk she was looking for and digs it from under the Bill Evans pile of vinyls. Kyouka always argued that Bill Evans was the king of jazz- and yet Momo always found Art Blakey's _Moanin'_ much closer to a musical masterpiece. As soon as the old man's face on the cover comes to light, Momo feels her lips peel into a smile and she rushes out of the room to put the disk on and allow the cafe to bask into the tunes of the piano, which quietly dictates the whole 10 minutes of _Moanin'_.

It doesn't take longer than two minutes for the sax to reverberate in the coffee shop, and Momo proudly returns behind the counter. Today is quiet, but the drums make up for it, and so does Shouto when he taps on the counter. His face is painted in curiosity and intrigue as he goes back to ordering his usual Green Tea.

"Music change?" he questions. Momo can't read displeasure in his voice, but she can't make out delight either.

"Yes." He's still eyeing her curiously, so Momo feels like she has to explain her choice, "The weather has gotten really gloomy, so I figured some upbeat music ought to put us in a better mood. The blues were just... "

"Blue?" he nods, but his small smile at his own pun fades away as he focuses on taking in the rhythm of the song, matching his heartbeats with the trumpets and welcoming the pulse of the jazz.

Or at least that's how Momo pictures it, because he starts drumming his fingers against the counter. She says nothing about it though, because not even Shouto seems to notice. She feels content with the knowing smile and watching his focused state.

He takes his drink and follows the route engraved in his memory to his table in a daze. Even as he sits down, he doesn't pull out his books and research as per usual, instead closing his eyes and focusing on the lively saxophone.

Momo brings him a _Creamy Adventure_ on the house- instructions from Satou, who fawned over Shouto all evening long after they closed yesterday. Ochako has also taken a liking to him, and an even more obvious liking to peeking at Momo's interactions with him, but that, Momo pretends she hasn't noticed.

When the plate clinks against the table, Shouto shuts his eyes even tighter, causing the skin around his eyes to wrinkle. Momo says nothing, instead quietly sliding into the seat in front of him and closing her eyes as well, permitting her heartbeat to sync with the beats of the drum.

"It's like a dialogue," Shouto says. It's the piano's turn to come to the front again, with the soft drums in the back, to pour out a symphony of energy.

"You think so?" Momo's eyes are still closed, allowing her brain to focus solely on the music. "The piano is always there, quietly supporting the trumpets. It's the mastermind behind everything- not flashy, but decisive." She imagines the pianist pouring his all into the song and her fingers move before she can control them, hitting all the right keys on an invisible piano. This was the first song she learnt all on her own, without her piano instructor knowing that she was practicing it as soon as he set foot outside her estate.

Momo now hums along with the low piano, in a descendo that bursts with energy as the first notes of the song hit again, all of a sudden, to announce the last part of _Moanin'_. When the well-known trademark notes echo, she opens her eyes to find Shouto staring at her. She blinks quickly and feels blood rush to her cheeks, suddenly aware that she was singing along.

"You have a beautiful voice," he says over the the ever louder piano performance, and Momo feels her cheeks burn an even darker shade of red. The way he purrs the word _beautiful_ gives her goosebumps.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

Shouto is once again oblivious to her reaction as his eyes fall on the _Creamy Adventure_ and his face lights up. "It's on the menu now?"

"Yes," Momo says and almost chuckles at the strangled excitement in his voice. "Want to take a look?"

He nods and follows her to the counter, which isn't buzzing with people as per usual. The end of term must be saying its word, because students only come to grab a drink and hurry back to their dorms or library in a frenzie.

Shouto's eyes sparkle when they fall upon the displayed desserts and he easily recognizes the mousse. His body language betrays disbelief and excitement, mixed together in an amusing blend.

"I'll tell you what reception it gets," Momo smiles.

He nods, but before he can answer, the wind chimes announce a new customer and they both turn their attention towards the woman who strides to the counter, her boots hitting the floorboards in in perfect sync with the drum- when had the song changed?

"Biggest Cappuccino you have. Caramel on top, please," Kyouka orders, unceremoniously dumping her purse on the counter and fumbling for her money. "Is that jazz?" Her head suddenly shots up and Momo can swear her ears grow bigger to capture all the fluctuations of the bass. " _Dat Dere_ ," she immediately says and smirks proudly. "That's my disc!"

"Hello to you too," Momo smiles and fills up her order. Ochako is cleaning a table in the cafe, and Sato has secluded himself in the kitchen again, so Momo fixes Kyouka's drink herself. "Do you want Rice or Almond Milk? We've got both in stock."

"Give me Rice," Kyouka says after a moment of thinking and more digging in her purse. Momo sees partitures and guitar feathers jumbling in the handbag and bites her lower lip to keep herself from scolding her unorganised friend. "Thanks," Kyouka adds without lifting her head.

"No problem," Momo replies as she searches for the Caramel Syrup. She's known Kyouka ever since they were teenagers, and the girl was as lactose intolerant as when they first met, which was the inspiration Momo needed to introduce non-lactose based drinks.

"Here you go," she says and hands Kyouka a cappuccino with a cinnamon musical note on top. She feels her own smile grow along with Kyouka's as the musician breathes in the smell of the caramel and her jack-cord earrings clink against her headphones.

She empties half of the drink in a gulp, and it's only after she demands a second beverage that she notices, "Hey, the shop's pretty empty, right?" Momo eyes her friend suspiciously and follows the glance Kyouka steals at the far off corner of the cafe. "Think I could-"

"Go right ahead."

Kyouka smiles brightly and leaps towards the small stage where the musical instruments are covered by a white sheet. _A Cup of Magic_ is always prepared for concerts, and it's equipped with a keyboard and drums, along a rusty electric guitar and a saxophone. The stage hasn't been used in quite a while- but Kyouka will sometimes practice there, and when the shop is free, Momo would accompany her at the keyboard.

"You're the best, Yaomomo!" her friend calls as she reveals her much beloved instruments and sets her guitar up in the amplifier, her face bearing the same look as Shouto's when he saw the _Creamy Adventure_.

Speaking of Shouto, he's still at the counter, and he looks mildly amused at the musician. "She's my friend," Momo explains before her brain can decide why that's necessary.

"Is she responsible for the jazz?"

"Yes. She's also the reason why I know much more music trivia than I should." Shouto's lips raise in a crooked smile, making Momo's knees weaken. _Unfair_ , she thinks to herself. "What's _your_ favourite genre of music?" she quickly asks, trying to take the upper hand on the situation.

"If I had to choose, classical music," Shouto shrugs. "It just says so much without any words."

"Just like you," Momo says before she can stop herself.

He meets her terrified gaze calmly and locks her eyes in his. She has no idea what she was thinking, but he _does_ say a lot without talking right now- he says that he isn't angry, and that her comment triggers a reaction in him. But just like classical music, it doesn't give a clear answer- just a hint of something that unexplainably mesmerizes Momo.

"Am I really?" he eventually asks, nothing but curious. His brow furrows when Momo's eyes break away from his, as if he lost a precious clue, and she starts giggling. "What?" he asks again, and Momo is too much of a laughing mess to give him any serious answer.

She wonders if in the grand scheme of things that fate has prepared for her, Shouto happens to be the one to rewrite all the mishaps of daily life.

Momo taps the rhythm of Kyouka's guitar with her pen against the counter and frowns at the equation. She's stuck- and it bugs her. She bites on the inside of her lip in annoyance.

"Dammit," she hears Kyouka curse, seemingly just as annoyed as Momo, although the reason is different. She then yells, "Yaomomo, do you have the key to the backroom?"

"What do you need?"

"A CD of Queen's performance. I keep messing up the beat of _Another one Bites the Dust_ and my teacher is gonna make fun of me, I just _know_ it. He'll be all 'I knew you chose this song just to show off'", she says in a high pitched voice- a full-marks impersonation of Present Mic, if Momo had to judge.

Even so, the barista rolls her eyes at how dramatic her friend can be and throws her the keys only after she hears Kyouka groan. "Get whatever you need, but just don't wreck havoc in there."

"Sheesh, trust me more," Kyouka winks and runs in the back.

Momo pretends not to feel the small smile she's sporting. Kyouka never seemed truly content with anything- and she was her own harshest critic. She returns to her own problem, and takes a note out of Kyouka's book to scold herself- she knows she didn't make a calculus mistake, so _where_ was she wrong?

Someone clears their throat next to her and she jolts, already feeling her ears burn- she shouldn't be studying at work. She's already bowing in apology when she hears Shouto excuse himself, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No no, it's okay. I'm at the customer's disposition, after all." She offers him a pleasant smile, still too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

He doesn't speak immediately, and when Momo dares meet his look, she feels his observing gaze pierce through her skin like hot iron, marking every inch of her body, especially her eyes. She doesn't understand whether he's analysing her or criticising her, because his eyes look both harsh and soft at the same time- it should be impossible, but maybe it has to do with the fact that they're different colours. Or maybe it's just another result of her overthinking things.

"I just wanted a refill," he eventually shrugs and holds out his cup.

She obliges, but stops him when he pulls out his wallet. "Refills are free."

His eyes widen, and then his face settles into a small, self indulgent smile. "I've been coming here since the start of the year and I didn't know that?"

"Well, it _is_ written on our site, so I assumed people just knew. But perhaps we should put up a sign?"

He shakes his head and snorts- maybe she should clear her ears- "It's really like you, so I shouldn't be so surprised." Momo wonders when he began labeling things "like her"- it's not that it bothers her, but it implies that he has been observing her behaviour and knows her well enough to predict the pattern of her decisions. Then again, Momo questions why that would come as a surprise to her- classical music isn't just wordless, but also very unpredictable, as it can drop from _presto_ to _lento_ in a matter of seconds.

Momo hands him the hot tea, and their fingers brush for a split second. She shivers from both the electrifying contact and how cold he is. It feels like she just touched a popsicle- does he have bad peripheral circulation? Is that why he drinks Green Tea daily?

It's not really her place to ask, but she's intrigued enough to not obey her set of self-imposed rules. He beats her to it again, though, by asking, "Do you like scones?"

Momo blinks in surprise, and her eyes follow his towards the bag of half-finished scones that sit next to her open notebook. She feels the blood rush to her face again- eating patisserie products when she's stressed is one of her guilty pleasures, one that she'd very much like to give up on. She gulps and nods, feeling like a child that was caught eating chocolate out of the cookie jar before lunch.

"What flavour?" he asks again, and Momo wonders whether he's genuinely oblivious or a very good and malicious actor.

"Blueberries. They're a bit less sweet than the strawberry ones, and I'd rather keep the damage to a minimum," she mumbles the last part, more for herself than to supply some vital information. "Do you want some?"

"No thanks. I prefer Japanese Sweets," he says matter-of-factly, causing Momo's shoulders to slump. Of course, he radiates the aura of a person who has well-balanced meals and leads a healthy lifestyle. She does her best to do the same, but studying for exams always gets the better of her, and her metabolism is so hard-working that she feels hungry most of the time.

"Thanks, Yaomomo," Kyouka's voice pulls her out of her trance as she drops the keys on the counter and flashes the Queen album before her eyes. "Time to rock'n'roll." Kyouka quickly notices the third person standing at the counter and narrows his eyes at Shouto. "A friend?"

Momo opens her mouth to answer, but closes it just as fast, suddenly aware that her relationship with Shouto is blurry. They certainly aren't strangers anymore, and they're even on a first name basis, but that doesn't mean they are _friends_. _Acquaintances_ sounds wrong too, because an acquaintance doesn't send your heart racing with a smile and they don't compliment you in a state of utter obliviousness. Besides, he _is_ part of the family she built here.

Momo steals a sideway glance at him, trying to find an answer in his mismatched eyes. They're an enigma as he ponders the same question, and they don't falter when he speaks, either. "I'm Momo's customer. Nice to meet you."

That is the most accurate answer, followed by the perfectly polite bow, but the barista can't help but feel that's too official. He's more than just a customer- she has taken a non-professional interest in him and his behaviour. He is her… mystery? Puzzle? All too abstract, Momo dismisses them one by one.

The gears in her head turn quickly, as if they've just been oiled, until it eventually clicks: he's her project. She wants to show him what magic is and make him welcome it, while getting to know him better along the way. Yes, he is her project.

"Aha," Kyouka muses, unconvinced by Momo's spacing out and Shouto's polite demeanor. "Well, Mr. Customer, I hope you like the classics," she grins and flashes the CD case before their eyes again before pressing play.

The steady beats of the song ring in Momo's ears as Kyouka sets the volume higher, bobbing her head along the beats. She falls in a daze of her own, tracing the notes on an invisible cord as the words start kicking in and she mouths them.

"What song is this?" Shouto whispers, respecting Kyouka's bubble of privacy and addressing Momo instead.

"You mean you don't know?" Her eyes must be so wide that he interprets it as disapproval, because he sounds uncertain when he murmurs a negative answer.

"Well then, you're about to find out," Momo says and points towards her friend, who has stopped the CD and connected her guitar to the amplifier again.

Thursday brings in a gust of crisp wind and a mysterious brown paper bag along with Shouto. His hair is ravished by the merciless wind, white and red locks intertwining in a strange patchwork, but he ignores his appearance and proudly holds the bag up in front of Momo.

One of her eyebrows arches upwards as she inspects the package. "I'm sorry, they have probably gotten cold, but I promise they're still delicious," Shouto says as an excuse, confirming that the bag is indeed for her. She meets his eyes, which are patiently waiting for her reaction, and takes the bag from him.

She doesn't even need to look inside, because as soon as she opens it, the smell of crispy dough and forest fruit filling feels her lungs and she stares at what has to be at least 300 grams of scones. "You didn't-"

"But I wanted to," he stops her before she can sputter any refusals. "You did so much for me- this is nothing in comparison." Momo feels both flattered and guilty- guilty that she thought he could be anything but genuine when he asked her about it two days ago; flattered that he cares. "My sister says these are the best in town, so I hope you'll like them."

"Thank you," Momo says and brings the bag to her chest, careful not to crush the scones but too thankful to let it down. The other reason, her subconscious muses, is that if her hands didn't hold something, she'd wrap them around Shouto and part his hair back in his usual style. She doesn't let that thought stir her mind more than necessary and instead says, "I hope you didn't go out of your way."

"No, it's pretty close to where I live. I walk by it every day, but this was the first time I actually stepped in."

Momo's smile widens even more, and she hopes her voice doesn't give away just how delighted she is. Her presence made him experience something new, and that alone is a magic spell. "Will you have the usual?"

Shouto's face relaxes in a coy smile, and Momo wanders if it's contagious. "Yes. And a piece of _High-class Vanilla_."

It's probably the result of being stalked while changing for the PE classroom, having caught indecent glances where her dress didn't cover her tights and years of experience with perverts, but Momo can feel when someone is watching her. She can also feel whether that person's lust has gotten the better of them, but that isn't the case now. All she feels right this instant is the pressure of someone's eyes watching her every move, lacking any ulterior motive than to just know what she is up to- the way her classmates watch her during the exams to see whether she's already done or not- and ask for her help.

What's weirding her out, though, is that her observer is none other than Shouto. She scolds herself for as much as daring to picture it, but if there was poison in the scones, she would have been able to tell- but there isn't, and they are so good that she has almost finished them. His sister must have really keen taste buds, Momo reasons.

But if the scones are safe, why is he watching her like a hawk? Is he just spacing out?

"He's been staring at you for a while now," Ochako says when she catches Momo's umpteenth sideway glance at him. "He probably has something to tell you."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe he has a crush on you." Momo blushes violently at the suggestion and shuts it down immediately.

"Don't be so categoric! I used to stare at Deku without realising it a lot before we started dating." Something in Ochako's cooing voice bothers Momo more than she'd like to admit- just because she doesn't have any romantic experience doesn't mean she's so clueless.

"You've had your fair share of confessions, right? You should know when a man likes you," Ochako grins.

"He doesn't like me that way. He's probably just zoning out." Even she finds that hard to believe.

"Sure~" Ochako teases as she spins around Creati and grabs the shaker. "And I am the Queen of England."

"Well, your Majesty, I regret to inform you that you are mistaken." Ochako frowns and Momo feels a bit guilty when she notices Ochako's grin whither, but still adds, "He's very direct- he'd tell me if that weighed on his mind."

"You sound very confident," Ochako sighs. "I guess I'll trust you to know what's best for you, Creati."

Momo feels arrow ripping through her chest when Ochako calls her by her work name, but decides to ignore it. Jumping to conclusions about others' feelings was like invading their personal space. And besides, Momo has yet to figure why his words stir something she didn't even know existed in her stomach.

It's already late and the shop is mostly empty when Momo reluctantly approaches Shouto's corner. She feels guilty for avoiding him most of the day, but she needed the alone time to sort some things out for herself.

"The scones were absolutely delicious," she tells him as she wipes the table next to his.

Momo refuses to let his smile charm her again, and pretends that her heart isn't drumming in her chest with a rhythm more intense than that of _Another One Bites the Dust._

"I'm glad," he says. "By the way, I listened to it." Momo stops with the plates in her right hand and tilts her head questioningly. "The song your friend was playing yesterday."

"Oh."

"And then I ended up listening to the whole album."

Momo lets the dishes rest on the table next to his and eats back a chuckle. "Kyouka would be _so_ proud. Mina too- she's the donor of the rock collection."

Shouto gives her an accusing look when she begins giggling. "It was very good," he says in his defense.

"Yes I know. _The Game_ is a good album. Even so, my favourite one is _A Night at the Opera_."

" _Bohemian Rhapsody_?"

" _You're my best friend_ ," Momo counters as she sits in what became _her_ usual spot, and her mind immediately erases the reasons as to why she has been avoiding him today. "But _Bohemian Rhapsody_ is considered their best piece by many."

"I can see why. It's… beautiful."

It's the second time Momo hears him utter the word, and he does so with both fascination and fear, as if the word is too gentle to escape his lips and too grand to meet the world.

She starts humming the song, but doesn't dare sing the lyrics. One of the reasons why she skips this song when YouTube suggests it to her is that it's too strong, and it requires a certain mood from the listener.

Shouto watches her quietly, closing his eyes as he focuses on her voice over the others in the cafe. Momo almost jolts when he starts humming alongside her, his deep voice much more suited for the sad beginning than hers.

They keep the duet up, completing each other in the stereo parts, and Shouto's lips peel into a smile when her notes entwine with his to recreate the Rhapsody. She tries not to let her beam alter the notes, but her voice catches in her throat when they reach the chorus with its higher notes and she coughs. "Sorry, this all I can do."

"And we were getting to the good part," Shouto pouts- no, her eyes are not betraying her.

Momo chuckles. "For a man that just yesterday became acquainted with Queen, you sure became a big fan."

"You are a very strong influence," he shrugs, as if proving that no blame weighs on his shoulders.

Momo quickly shifts the blame further, "Please talk out my musical taste with Kyouka and Mina. If it were after me, I'd probably be listening just to classical music, too." Shouto raises a curious eyebrow. "I was brought up with classical music, you see. I guess I only started listening to anything else when I met Kyouka."

He nods, and seems to store the information away. Momo wonders if he has some sort of folder dedicated to her. "What about you?" she asks, suddenly aware of how empty _her_ Shouto folder is.

"Mom liked classical music, and we listened to it a lot. She even went as far as to pay piano and violin lessons for my older siblings." Momo is tempted to ask if he can play those instruments, too, but the way he phrased it tells her he was the only exception, and she bites back her question, not meaning to pry. There's a faraway look in his eyes, the one she saw on the day they meet, the one that pierces through the exterior appearance to see the truth.

She pulls him back to their discussion with a gentle comment. "So you have several siblings? That must be nice."

Her words do their job, because he looks _at_ her again, and not _through_ her. "It is, but the age gap between us is quite big, and we didn't spend that much time together when I was little. I feel closer to them now than I did back then, I guess." There is a pause as he looks at her, assessing something. "Are you an only child?"

"Yes." He nods as if he predicted the answer. "It can get pretty lonely sometimes," Momo forces a laugh and pushes the memories of the huge, empty house away from her mind.

"I know what you mean," Shouto surprises her with the faraway look yet again, but this time, he pulls Momo with him in his little world, because they share the same lonely eyes. It breaks Momo's heart to see his black eye so dark that it swallows every happy memory, and his blue one cold as ice, not letting any feelings reach him.

And then Momo _understands_. She finally understands why Shouto comes here every day, and she bites her lip to keep from gasping, because he is the same as her. He comes because the emptiness of his house screams at him, and because the silence in the dark room that awaits him when he unlocks his front door is too loud.

And so they both come where there's light, and where there's magic- only that she comes there because she believes in it. He comes there because he wants to believe.

"But then I think I found a family here, and I have more siblings than I ever could have asked for," Momo says in a soothing voice, throwing Ochako a soft, fond look. _A Cup of Magic_ has always felt more like home than her actual house.

"Do you believe in a home away from home?" His eyes melt into a fonder look, pools of ink that glimmer with the desire to rewrite his story, or to write a better ending.

It doesn't take her by surprise, and she feels it again- his need to belong, to find a family. "I do," she says, because it's true. "I think the most precious family is one where you're kept together not by bonds of blood, but by feelings so strong they can weaken without breaking, only to then reinforce themselves."

"You sound like a friend of mine," Shuto says with a small smile. Momo looks at him puzzled, but he doesn't elaborate on it. Instead, he looks at her with a simper. "Thank you."

She blinks, faltering under the sudden response. "What for?"

"For being honest with me." And then he says something that would have left Momo gaping, if not for her better manners, "And for believing in magic."

* * *

AN: Hello again!

It has been a long time, but the length and cuteness of this chapter hopefully makes up for that. This chapter and chap 6 were initially intended as a single chap, but it got too long, so here you have the first part! I took an 180 degree from sweets to music, I know, but I promise it makes sense for a moment I'm building up (yes, get hyped!). Also, this was Kyouka's introduction- Kaminari's is coming soo, too:)  
I hope you've enjoyed it, and until next time with more jazz and a cup of tea, my dear readers~


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sorry for the wait, but here we go: In which Mina plays the match maker, and the spell of the cafe seems to finally affect Shouto. Also, in which Momo gets in trouble- or realise she has been in trouble from day 1.

* * *

 **6\. Matching Sweaters and Realisations**

* * *

The temperature drops another 0.5 degrees and Momo stretches the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers, in a failed attempt to warm herself up. She's leaning against the heater on which her scarf is now sprawled so it'll be warm when she has to face the crisp wind again, rubbing her hands over the metal hinges to melt the cold in her bones.

"Creati, your customer is here!"

Momo doesn't even bother to ask who Mina's talking about. The cafe staff tacitly agrees that Shouto is _the_ customer, although Momo has several other regular ones, like the bubbly girl that everyone treats as if she were invisible and the perverted stalker that makes advances at her as soon as he steps foot into the shop. Although Momo loves almost all the customers, that's one she really despises, and the thought of him showing up is like a curse downing on her.

"Coming!" she calls from the lockers, thinking of the decent half-and-half guy that's waiting for her, and steps into the colder cafe. The shivers caused by the difference in temperature are enough for her to forget about Mineta and focus on the customer in front of her.

Shouto looks the same as always, despite the cold weather, and the only noticeable difference in his usual look is that is another brown bag has become his accessory.

"Is this going to become a daily thing now?" Momo asks, pointing to the bag in his hand. She isn't really accusing him, but she does feel guilty that she loves the scones so much- it's like she's robbing him.

"If you don't mind, yes," he answers without batting an eyelid. Momo doesn't want to push her luck, but she could swear excitement transpired his low voice and the guilt in her gut loosens its grip on her. "They had raspberry ones today," he says as he opens the bag for her to see and the irresistible smell leaks.

 _This isn't fair,_ Momo thinks, but what's really not fair is that she suddenly feels much warmer, and her turtleneck only makes her cheeks redder.

"Thank you." She makes a mental note to later give him a piece of the _Happiness Pudding_ on the house as she takes the scones from him. Their hands brush again, and she feels that icy cold that seeps through her bones instantly. Momo doesn't think twice when her hand stretches out for Shouto's retreating right arm and she grasps his fingers. "You're freezing," she shivers, but doesn't let go. He could have hypothermia, in which case he needs to warm himself up as soon as possible and-

"It's okay," Shouto casually says. Momo is about to argue that there's no way freezing to death is okay, but he adds, "My right side has always been colder. My left is warm, see?" His left hand cups Momo's, sandwiching her between ice cold skin and warmth akin to that of burning flames.

"How is this even possible?" she asks, trying to scientifically bring light into the situation. "Does your right side ever warm up?"

"Sometimes, when I will my body to thermoregulate," he shrugs, obviously having given up on understanding his own body. Her lips crook into a smile when she realises that Shouto is a mystery for himself as well.

Momo realises they've been touching for quite a while only when his gaze falls on their intertwined hands, yet he doesn't let her go when she tries to slip out of the embarrassing situation. "You're warm," he notices, more for himself than for her.

She doesn't find the words to properly respond, and has no idea whether it is because Shouto's remark has her face burning as hot as his left hand or because her brain is still trying to wrap around the enigma that Shouto's half-and-half body is.

* * *

"You guys are matching~" Mina chants as she spins around Momo, balancing two bottles of syrup in her quest to decorate the _Chocolate Extravaganza._

The raven-haired barista picks up one of the bottles before Mina can spill its insides, ignores the girl's pout and asks, "What do you mean?"

"He's wearing the same sweater as you!" Momo's eyes dart with the speed of light towards Shouto. "Well not exactly the same, his is black, but it's the same model!" Mina doesn't even try to hide the amusement in her voice.

"And how do you know? A striped sweater is quite common." Momo ignores her burning curiosity under the perfected mask of feigned ignorance and doesn't let her hopes get up- what is she even hoping for, really? This is just a coincidence.

"Ohoho," Mina fakes an evil laugh. "But hand-knitted turtleneck sweaters aren't common place, now are they? Specifically not ones that have knots around the collar," she winks knowingly. Momo doesn't ask how Mina got close enough to obtain this information, and she doesn't know why the Alien Queen's words make her feel better, either.

"I don't even know if they make this model for men, Mina. It must be just a coincidence," Momo sighs and returns back to painting a smile in the espresso foam.

Even if it's just a coincidence, she doesn't find it dislikeable.

* * *

It's Mina's fault, Momo decides after having stolen more than a few totally not subtle glances at Shouto's sweater while cleaning the tables around him, but never closed in quite enough to actually tell the pattern of the knots around his neck bones. She mutters her displeasure in humble words and a click of her tongue, because Yaoyorozu's don't swear, as her mother firmly reminded her the few times improper words have left her mouth.

It's been solid hours since Mina has sneaked the idea into her head, and although seemingly harmless, it corrupted her mind like a virus. Momo knows herself well enough to know the only antivirus is finding out whether what the Alien Queen has said is true or not- if only to stop Mina from giving her meaningful looks every time she steps behind the counter and to put an end to the way she wriggles her brows in Shouto's direction.

Momo doesn't succumb to petty schemes, not usually at least, but this is an unusual situation involving an unusual man, so she convinces herself it's the only way. As such, she makes a show of accidentally bumping into Shouto's desk, causing one of his pens to fall to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she gasps, avoiding his eyes and not waiting for his response to kneel after the pen. She finds it next to his foot, and gets a bonus glimpse of his carefully tidied boots before getting back up and letting her eyes track the model on his sweater.

He does have knots around his neck, she notices and her chest swells with warmth at the discovery. A stupid reaction, she knows, but she gets punished only a second later, when the warmth is replaced with panic. She overlooked one small, yet essential detail in her masterplan: the tray. The tray _full_ of empty plates she is balancing in _one_ hand, might she add.

Momo feels the weight of the tray shifting, its centre moving outside her palm, and loses her grip on the pen to catch the tray with both hands. As she does, however, she sees the ground closer than she remembered it to be and braces herself for the impact. At least her plan didn't fail completely, she consoles herself as she forces her eyelids shut and waits for the collision with the mercilessly hard floor.

Seconds pass without her feeling any pain, which is weird, because if she remembers one thing from her physics classes in highschool, it's that anything falls with the acceleration of roughly 10 meters per square second, so she should be feeling the impact seeping in her bones by now. She does feel she has landed, however, but not where she was supposed to.

"Are you alright?" a voice wheezes out, tickling her neck, and she dares a peek towards the speaker. As soon as her glimpse lays upon red hair, both of her eyes snap open and quickly asses the situation: one of Shouto's arms is wrapped around her waist, and she is most definitely sitting in his lap, while he is lying on the floor.

"Ah, yes, thank you," she quickly apologises and liberates herself from his protective grip, bowing towards the one who has cushioned her fall.

He gets up quickly and wipes his pants in a few quick moves. "Are you hurt?" He returns his scrutinizing gaze on her, scanning for injuries.

"No, what about you?" Guilt creeps into Momo's intestines and she remembers why she usually is against petty schemes. She abandons the tray, cause of all evils, on a table next to his and approaches fearfully.

"I'm okay," Shouto assures her, but her hand still hovers in mid-air, her fingers sprawled as she searches for his eyes.

"I'm really sorry," she says again, and she hopes her croaked voice betrays her sincerity.

Shouto simply shrugs, "It happens. Don't worry about it. I'm glad nothing happened to you."

Despite still feeling guilty, Momo relaxes and lowers her hand, letting the ghost of a smile creep on her face. He's looking at her with genuine concern, and she guesses she looked just the same a few moments ago. "I'm fine because you were here to catch me. Thank you!"

He doesn't answer for a few seconds, and Momo replays the words in her head, wondering if she said something wrong. The more she analyses them, the sappier they sound, and she's about to turn on her heels and dash towards the counter when Shouto finally speaks.

"I'm glad I was here, then."

Momo's heart leaps when the skin next to his eyes wrinkles in a small smile, and she takes a deep breath. Calming her breathing is the first step towards making sure she doesn't blush tomato red.

She nods and retreats, the image of him engraved in her brain. The place where his arm was wrapped around her warms up too, and she hears his words again. They probably mean much more to him than she can make out.

* * *

It's almost closing time, but Momo's gotten used to Shouto hanging out in the coffee shop until the last second. From the peaceful look on his face and the way his pen seamlessly flows over the paper, only stopping when he has to turn the page, Momo deduces that Shouto likes the quiet afternoons more than the busy lunches.

"Are you admiring a work of art?" Mina whispers in her ear all of a sudden, causing Momo to jolt. Her chemistry notes lay forgotten in front of her, rendering it hard for the barista to contradict her friend. "The guy's strange," Mina continues, circling the bar to pull out a chair in front of Momo. "Doesn't he feel awkward, all alone in a cafe?"

Momo only mutters a thoughtful "Hmm," remembering their conversation from yesterday. _A Cup of Magic_ might be the closest he has experienced to a home, but she isn't going to be nosey about it.

"I'm going to check on him," she says instead and steps out of the employee-zone, ignoring Mina's gaping that quickly sharpens into a knowing smirk. Why are her friends so set on proving that she has a crush on this guy, just because she is curious about him? Isn't wanting to uncover mysteries normal human behavior?

Only a few steps keep them apart, but Shouto seems too absorbed in his work to notice her. Almost mechanically, he reaches for his cup of green tea and sips it. His pen stops moving as soon as he swallows his drink, though, and he tears his eyes from his notebook to squint at the cup with a disapproving look, accompanied by wrinkles quickly forming on the bridge of nose. If that's what a displeased Shouto looks like, Momo could stand to see it more- it's so cute it's almost comical.

"Do you want me to warm up your tea?" she offers with a gentle smile, trying not to chuckle at his jolt of surprise.

"Can you do that?" he quickly asks, and Momo dares attribute it to embarrassment from being found out glaring at his tea.

"Sure," she answers, erasing the childish giggle that's bubbling its way to the surface with a coy smile. He gives her the paper cup, but to her surprise, he follows her to the counter anyway. She wants to tell him it's not necessary, but Shouto rarely does unnecessary moves, so she bites her tongue.

Shouto props himself on the counter where Mina was just a few minutes ago, and Momo spots her in the corner, swiping the floor while humming along the song echoing in the cafe. It was her turn to choose the music today, and she went for the rock ballads she loves so much- Metallica is playing right now. Not long before Mina will start a solo with the broom as a fake guitar, Momo thinks.

 _A Cup of Magic_ is perhaps most magical in the evening. When everything is quiet and time seems to flow differently, when the few people that sit in plushy armchairs here and there fall under the tranquil spell and seem lost deep in thoughts, when the lila light Momo sets every evening colors everything a shade of calm and whimsical eery, that's when the coffee shop is at its best. The hum of the dishwasher is far away, but loud enough to keep them anchored in reality, the only reminder that this isn't some sort of magical realm.

Shouto cushions his chin on his forearms, seemingly also fallen prey to the trance. With his red and white hair and the heterochromatic eyes, he's at home in the fairy tail-like background. He watches Momo with lazy eyes, tracking her moves like they're hypnotic. She's surprised at how effortlessly he has slipped into her life, to the point where she expects him to be there every day, his presence taken for granted.

And that's exactly why this is so dangerous- not him, of course, but the expectations Momo has pushed on him without even asking for his consent. Earlier, he could have not been there to catch her- of course, she wouldn't have fallen in the first place if he wasn't there, but the point remains. Her heart squeezes unpleasantly when her logical side reminds her that Shouto won't be there forever- and neither will she work in _A Cup of Magic_ for an eternity. She is expected to take over the shop- and she probably will, because fulfilling and surpassing expectations is what Momo has done from a young age.

Maybe that's what makes this moment all the more precious, and maybe it's also why Shouto has followed her to the counter. They are basking in each other's presence while they still can, willingly ignoring the inevitable end of this story: parting as likely strangers. It may also be why Shouto asks her, "What's your favourite drink?"

His voice doesn't disturb the peace that has coated the cafe, neither does it startle Momo. It's so low and soothing it seems to have been designed to fit here, and it makes Momo feel strangely secure.

"It's the _Winter Wonderland_ ," she says as she lits up the fire under the pot where Shouto's green tea is now resting.

He seems to assess the suitability of the name, taking into consideration Momo's personality and her looks. In the end nods satisfied. "It suits you."

"How so?" Her lips crook into a sly smile.

"It's the tea with forest fruit and cinnamon sticks in it, right?" She shouldn't be surprised he knows that- he's a regular, after all. "It gives off the vibe of something a blueberry scone lover would like," he says without any trace of menace, but she still feels a bit embarrassed.

"What about you then? Why do you like green tea?"

"My big sister likes it a lot. She was part of the Tea Ceremony Club in high school and always practiced making it at home. I guess you could say I was her lab rat- she really sucked at first." Shouto smiles at the memory, a genuine smile that isn't clouded by any regret, although it is covered by a translucent veil, like all memories of the past are.

Momo finds it appropriate to chuckle now. "Your sister seems like an interesting person."

"She is," Shouto agrees, raising his head to meet Momo's eyes, who's now sitting across from him. "But I guess she's equally parts weird," he shrugs, but the fond smile doesn't leave his face.

"Weirded than the staff here? I doubt it," Momo whispers conspiratorially.

She doesn't even flinch when Mina yells, "I heard that" from the other corner of the cafe.

"See what I mean?" Momo sighs defeated in front of the proof.

Shouto nods. "I think she'd like it here. My sister, I mean." There's a small pause as he looks around the shop, as if he's looking for the spell that floats around, enveloping people in warmth and security. "She probably believes in magic, too."

"Probably?" Momo tilts her head inquisitively.

"She's an elementary school teacher. I don't think she could make it through the day unless she believed in magic," Shouto shrugs again as if to say that kids are a mystery. Momo chuckle-snorts at the mental image of Shouto staring at kids and them staring at him, both equally intrigued by the other party.

Thankfully, she doesn't need to give an explanation for her outburst, because the tea is warm enough to be poured into his cup again and she hands it to him with a smile. Shouto sips it carefully and whispers, "Perfect," loud enough for Momo to hear. Whether he wanted her to intercept the message or not, he doesn't let out.

Momo smiles and her eyes dart to the clock: half an hour till they're closing. She picks up a mop from beneath the counter and unties her apron, ready to clean the place up for the day.

Mina chooses that moment to pass by them, seemingly without any purpose. Then all of a sudden, she whistles, "You guys match," and then disappears from Momo's visual field.

For a few good seconds, Momo stands paralysed, not brave enough to look at Shouto, but not cowardly enough to run away, either. She just stands there in the calm that suddenly feels awkward and stares at the nonexistent cracks in the floor, wondering whether she'll spontaneously combust if she does that for long enough.

"Oh," Shouto eventually says and Momo dares peek at him. It looks like he just understood what Mina meant, and he adds, "We do match."

It's not just the simple words that hit her, but also the way he smiles. He smiled a lot today, but this is the first time he does it about a thing happening in the present, about something related to her, to them, and it's enough to prove Momo she is very weak against him.

Once again, he doesn't realise how impactful his words can be and retreats in his corner, happily sipping his now-warm drink.

"You're in trouble," Mina suggestively chants, suddenly appearing behind the counter again. Momo can't even argue with her- she is in trouble, her hot cheeks tell her as much, and she should have seen the signals from far away.

"But so are you," she turns to Mina and raises her eyebrows unimpressed at her friend's scowl. "You're doing the accounting tonight."

"Why?" Mina whines in the most pleading voice she can muster.

"Payback."

* * *

AN: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, hehe~ Finally some progress, huh? Next chapter is my favourite one, and I can't wait to write it! It's a full Todomomo fluff chapter and the one that really launches the story- also, it has Shouto's pov! And then come chapter 8, Kaminari gets in the fray... Yey! (Getting you hyped so you'll excuse my absence)

I'll do my best to post by the end of march again, but no promises! Till next time with a cup of tea, my lovely readers who keep me alive with their love (for which I thank you daily~)!


	7. Chapter 7

In which Shouto finally has his own pov and Midoriya gets introduced... in a rather unorthodox manner.

Hi! Yes, I am alive! Yes, new chapter! Enjoy!  
Also, just a heads-up, but you may want to listen to the Beautiful Blue Danube in the last part (I recommend the Andre Rieu version, but do as you wish~) My weird taste for music has gotten the better of me again, but with classical compsitors this time around!  
Without further ado, I present you chapter 7!

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Smiles that Bend Science to Their Own Wills**

* * *

Shouto neither likes nor hates crowded places. In fact, there aren't many things he cares for enough to "like" or "hate" them. Unless something or someone goes out of their way to step on his toes, he doesn't see any reason to make an effort to label them as "likeable" or "dislikeable". There are just better things he can do during that time, like focusing on his studies or calling his sister. Occasionally, he goes out with Midoriya- mostly when he has to buy a present for Uraraka, his girlfriend of almost three years now, and spends 3 to 4 hours freaking out before giving in and calling Shouto and Iida for help.

The cafe he goes to daily used to be neutral, too. One would argue that visiting it with the religious regularity Shouto does proves otherwise, but that wasn't the case. The place was quiet enough for him to study, but not so quiet that it would leave him time to dwell on the cold, dark apartment that he could never bring himself to call home. The people working there were nice, although Shouto sometimes thought they smiled too much (and he pitied them for the muscle pain in their cheeks), but not so nice that he'd bother learning their names.

As he crouches to the ground, pulling cat food out of one pocket, Shouto feels the weight of the other bag he's carrying- a brown paper bag, one that didn't use to hang from his hand merely a few days ago.

The cat Shouto feeds every day on his way to the cafe peeks shily from the bushes, recognises her benefactor and approaches. She sniffs at her food and pushes her head in Shouto's open palm before nibbling on the treat. He scratches her between her ears, and thinks that some things never change.

This cat, for example, is here every day, a constant in his life, an anchor that Shouto has tied himself to, afraid to lose himself otherwise. He doesn't know exactly where he'd lose himself- whether it be in life or just in the mix of threads that he doesn't dare separate called feelings- but he knows he can't let her go, no matter what.

But there are variables in his life, too- they are usually the ones Shouto at least despises, if not outright hates. There was having to move out, for instance, leaving the calm lifestyle he shared with his sister and being left to fend for himself. There's the fridge that can't refill itself and the convenience store that was only two blocks away that closed down last week, so now Shouto has to take a fifteen minute walk when he doesn't feel like falling asleep to the grumbles of his stomach.

And then there's _her_.

 _She's_ the one exception to every single one of the feeble rules that dictate Shouto's life. One day, she waltzed up to the bar instead of the man who drew smiles on his cup and started talking to him without any ulterior motive. She made him want to remember the names of the baristas in the cafe, and told him stories about them that gave them a background and made them feel real. She made him add a dessert to every cup of indifferent green tea he drank.

She forced _A Cup of Magic_ off the "indifferent" list where Shouto had pinned it and put it on the very short list of things Shouto likes. His mother and sister. His older twin brothers, when they aren't teasing him. Midoriya and Iida. His cat. Green tea. Dancing. Classical music.

 _A Cup of Magic._

Momo.

He gets up and the weight of the brown bag tugs on his hand, but it somehow doesn't feel like a burden. It's quite the opposite, Shouto thinks, not without surprise: the changes that she brought in his life make him lighter, and he walks towards the cafe as if he grew wings. He spares the stray cat a last look, but she has already ducked her head and sprang in the narrow alleyway where she hides most of the day.

The path to the cafe is always the same, barely visible under the people rushing out of university to grab their daily caffeine supply, hopefully enough to last them until their evening classes are over. Shouto inwardly sighs relieved, thinking that being a third year brings several advantages, one of which is the loose program. His backpack, heavy with research material, reminds him what the price for his freedom is.

People rushing in and out of the cafe make the chimes jingle almost without pause, but it doesn't bother Shouto. Its chirp is actually one of his favourite sounds now, because whenever it pierces through the atmospheric music, it makes her lift her head, her eyes tracking the shop to him and her face breaking into a wide smile.

This smile is perhaps number 1 on Shouto's list of favourite things. When he was in highschool, he had to explain the passage "and when she smiled, the stars lit up and the world stopped moving all at once" in an exam. He remembers thinking that the sentence was quite pretentious, and that it was a clear exaggeration to emphasise the character's feelings.

Shouto regrets not remembering who wrote that passage, because he'd like to tell him that he now understands. He understands it's actually a simplification of the real feeling, or that the author hasn't seen _her_ smile, in which case Shouto pities him, because he's certain that her smile is the single, most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

The night sky is nothing in comparison to her smiling face, and no star has anything on the way her eyes sparkle with genuine emotion. It reminds Shouto of his mother's face when she sees him enter her perfectly white room,but it's different from that, because it sets his heart racing and makes him feel something he didn't know he was capable of mustering.

As he sits in line, Shouto watches her serve everyone with a smile, and realises he may have gone crazy, because he's positive that the smile she gives him is different. For once, her lips part just barely when she sees him, revealing pearl-like teeth, and her honest onyx eyes glint with something unidentifiable. He wonders if that is the cause for the fuzzy feeling in his chest whose name he has googled more times that he can remember, but found only gibberish: he's either in love or dying.

"Hello," she greets him when it's finally his turn, and it rolls of her tongue naturally, as if she knew he would be there around now. She effortlessly drows a cup from the stack on the counter and starts writing his name, about to jot down the usual order when Shouto stops her.

"I want the Winter Wonderland today," he throws away one more constant in his life out of the window but regrets nothing, because after she blinks confused she _smiles_. Shouto wonders if it would be too weird to take a picture of it and make it his wallpaper.

Instead of drawing out his phone though, he puts the brown bag on the counter. "They had blueberry filling today," he says and watches her smile bloom into a grin. There's that surge of happiness in his chest again, the one Shouto would like to get checked at a hospital, but he does his best not to let it show on his face. She worried so much about his cold hand that he doesn't want her to have a heart attack when she hears his heart is beating too fast.

"Thank you," she nods and hands the cup over to Uravity. The name feels weird in Shouto's mind- he's only recently began referring to the round-faced, brown-haired girl like that.

He leaves the counter faster than he wants to. Uravity gives him a smile with a tilt of something daring to it, but he doesn't dwell on the meaning of her dimples when he notices that she looks more flushed than usual.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asks as he picks up his drink.

"Of course!" She nods less energetically than usual, and Shouto can't help but feel a pang of sharp pain through his chest. The last time he felt that was when Momo almost fell on Friday, and when Midoriya broke his arm last year. He gulps the fear back and lingers a moment longer than needed, deciding to retreat in the end.

Still worried about Uravity, Shouto has difficulty in focusing on his work, and contemplates the drawbacks of putting living beings on his "like" list- they make him concerned when they are feeling unwell. He catches himself staring at Momo and loosens a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

When he first chose this seat, it was because it felt secure, hidden in a corner of the cafe, protecting him from the buzz of the counter. He can now see another advantage to it: from here, he can watch the baristas work around the customers, swirling on their heels to deliver the orders. Sometimes, Shouto is sure they will collide and holds his breath, but the staff is so tightly knit together that it's like they know what path the others will take, and they dance by each other effortlessly.

He never used to watch the people, preferring the calming mahogany of the wooden furniture. The counter with its countless little drawers for herbal infusions, the jars of ground coffee and the general smell of the shop are exactly how Shouto imagined a witch's house in the stories his mother used to read to him. But the air smelling of melted chocolate and the music that lures him into a drowsy state are proof enough that whichever witch designed _A Cup of Magic_ must have worked against the forces of evil.

In the middle of the buzz hour, from the counter where good witches (fairies, perhaps?) hide, Momo finds a smile for everyone, and Shouto loses track of time as he watches her. He wouldn't describe himself as a stalker, but he doesn't stare at her like she's a work of art either, though granted, she _is_ beautiful. Watching her is more of a healing process for Shouto, as it inexplicably makes him feel at ease and brings him peace of mind, inducing that kind of mentality he needs to sort through his thermodynamics assignments.

Today is just another one of those calm days when he loses himself in the pace of the cafe and in his work, or at least that's what Shouto thinks. And until he empties half of his drink and finishes the bulk of his homework for All Might, nothing proves him wrong.

And then there's a _thud_.

It's so loud that Shouto looks up from his research immediately and almost jumps from his seat when he sees it. It all happens too quickly, but he's at the counter before he knows what willed his feet to move, elbowing his way through the growing crowd around the island.

"Uravity!" Momo raises her voice in the commotion, and Shouto hears it before he can see the scene. "Ochako!" she yells now, and Shouto freezes just as his eyes fall upon the scene, because he knows that name and how hasn't he made the connection before?

" _Hey, Midoriya, what's with that bracelet you're always wearing?" Shouto asks as he watches Midoriya sigh in relief, clenching his fist around the bracelet that almost fell into the centrifugal wheel._

 _He looks up and smiles sheepishly, one finger absentmindedly tracing the symbol of infinity carved in metal and tied by two straps of green leather over his wrist, where it has been ever since Shouto met him. "It was a gift from my girlfriend," he admits and blushes at the use of the word._

 _Shouto isn't surprised that Midoriya has a girlfriend, despite him never bragging about her. He guesses it might be the "Uraraka" that keeps popping up in their discussions._

 _Still, Midoriya adds, "I bought her a pendant in the shape of infinity for her birthday, and she bought me this for Christmas. I guess we were thinking of the same thing."_

 _The way Midoriya talks is nonchalant, but there's a serene look on his face and he keeps tracking the outline of his bracelet with a faraway look that tells Shouto there's more to it than just a present. He doesn't really get "love", but his sister has tortured him with enough cheesy romance movies to teach him that matching items are more than just a coincidence._

 _They're an unspoken promise._

The pendant hanging around Uravity's neck reflects the light of the cafe and it burns Shouto's retinas. He jumps over the counter before anyone can stop him.

"Uraraka, are you okay?" The words rip from his throat as if they're too big to get out and need to be pulled by force.

She flashes him a weak smile. "It's nothing, I'm just a bit dizzy."

"You fainted!" Momo says as she wipes Uraraka's brow and frowns. "Ah, as expected, you have a fever. This isn't nothing. You need to get home and rest."

"It's fine, I can at least finish my shift. The shop is crowded and-" she speaks softly, her eyelids half closed despite her efforts to seem okay. Shouto glances around the counter, where Sato is keeping the others at bay and assuring them their favourite Uravity is alright, but he doesn't look too convinced of the fact himself.

"I'll call Midoriya to pick you up," Shouto decides after giving Uraraka a pointed look and blaming himself for not pushing for details earlier.

"Deku?" Uraraka faintly menages, and flaps her hands weakly in front of her. "He'll get worried, don't-"

But it's too late. Midoriya picks up from the third ring and asks, "Todoroki? This is rare, is everything alright?"

He ignores Momo's flicker of curiosity amidst the worry for Uraraka that paints her face and breathes in. "I need you to come to the coffee shop next to the university. Uraraka has collapsed."

He hears Midoriya get up and there's rustling on the other end of the phone. "Is she awake? Wait, how do you- actually no, do I need to bring something?" There's the jingle of keys accompanying the urgency in his tone and then tensed silence.

"No. She has a fever and passed out earlier, but no other symptoms."

He looks at Momo for more details, but she only mumbles, "Probably from overworking herself."

There's rustling again, and then the thud of Midoriya's footsteps against cement. "Thank you for letting me know. Please look after her until I get there."

Shouto can read the modulations in Midoriya's voice, the confusion, the worry and the adrenaline rush, the fear caused by his attachment to Uraraka, and wonders if he ever was or will be so concerned about someone. His eyes flicker to Momo and he wonders how he would react if someone called to tell him she had fainted. He decides he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Will do," he assures Midoriya and hangs up. "He should be here in about 15 minutes," he informs the girls after he quickly calculates how far Midoriya's apartment is. Maybe 10, if he runs.

"Thank you," Momo says and doesn't ask why he knows Midoriya or that Uraraka is his girlfriend, but instead allows herself to look a bit relieved. Shouto glances down at Ochako, whose cheeks have grown even redder. She stops resisting Midoriya's arrival, using the energy she has left to inhale the mint Momo has placed under her nose to clear her nostrils. "We should carry her to the lockers," Momo says, not taking her eyes off Uraraka.

"I'll do it," he offers. Nobody complains as he scoops up Uraraka, trying to figure out how to carry her without making her uncomfortable. He tucks a hand under her knees and one rests on the small of her back, and she adjusts by circling his throat with one of her arms, weakly clinging to him.

She's surprisingly light, and Shouto suddenly feels like she's fragile, an object that can break as a result of his own carelessness, and he lightens his grip on her, just enough so he won't drop her. Is this what it means to be protective?

"I'm sorry," she mutters under her breath, so only Shouto can hear.

He doesn't know what she's apologising for, but he mutters back, "It's okay. He'll be here soon."

He feels her nod against his chest, and despite her state, a fond smile curls around her lips, one that Shouto think only people that have others to worry for them can show. It's new, seeing the bouncy Uravity show this side of her, and it only solidifies her place on the list of things Shouto cares for.

Momo jumbles with the keys, unlocking the space reserved to the staff members. As soon as they're in, she makes Uraraka sit down, and then she dips a cloth in freshwater and places it on Uraraka's forehead. The next five minutes are more of Momo running around the locker, searching her purse for pills and asking Sato to fix their friend a cup of chamomile tea, all while Uraraka declines the attention and care directed in her way.

"Listen," Momo eventually snaps, cutting through all that Uraraka has to say. "You are sick and we are your friends, so would you just shut up and let us help you?" She doesn't wait for an answer and hands the cloth she had just peeled off Uraraka's forehead to Shouto before leaving to get the tea and a blanket.

Left alone with Uraraka, Shouto finds himself saying "She's right." He doesn't know what prompted him to talk, but her curious look makes him continue, "People would naturally worry about you because they care. I think this is proof you're important to them," he tells her as he brushes her bangs apart and puts the now cold again cloth on her forehead. The image of his sister doing the same for him after he had fallen in a frozen pond when he was 6 flashes before his eyes and he smiles a little.

Uraraka mirrors the smile. "You're right. Thank you," she says weakly and lays on the bench she's resting on. "Momo's going to lecture me once I get better, isn't she?" she mumbles to herself.

"Probably," Shouto admits. Her having a cold doesn't mean he should lie to her.

Momo enters the room shortly thereafter, a fluffy blanket in her arms and a cup of tea fuming in her hand. "Here," she hands Shouto the drink and proceeds to wrap Uraraka like a baby, which elicits a small giggle out of the sick girl. Momo's eyebrows arch, but Shouto notices a fond smile nestling on her lips and feels himself relax. Somehow, it feels like, if Momo's here, nothing can go wrong.

Midoriya is escorted in by Sato only two minutes later, panting and cheeks red, and Shouto concludes he must have ran all the way here- he only needed 8 minutes, too.

"Ah, Deku!" Uraraka greets from her cocoon of blankets and warmth.

Nobody has a chance to explain what happened, because Midoriya closes the distance between him and Uraraka in an instant and presses a hand against her forehead, checking her temperature. His face darkens as he asks, "Does anything hurt? Throat? Head? Since when? Do you need medicine?"

He only stops when Uraraka muffles his mouth with her hand. "I won't die, Deku," she says lightly, but as he removes her hand from his face gently, her smile withers, because he looks dead serious.

"I know," he sighs, squeezing her hand tightly. "But I hate seeing you suffer."

Shouto can only watch silently, retreating in a corner to give the couple space. They look like they are already family, and Shouto notices the bracelet hanging from Deku's wrist again. He know finds the answer to his earlier question: _this_ is being protective.

Something brushes against his arm and Shouto sees Momo has retreated next to him. "She'll be fine now," she says confidently and Shouto can only nod in return. She's in good hands.

After Midoriya is done with his interrogating Uraraka and thanking the staff for looking after her, he listens to Momo's instructions and picks Uraraka up, together with her blanket, piggyback style. He thanks Shouto for a tenth time and is about to leave when Uraraka yelps, "What about my shift? The cafe-"

"We can manage," Momo assures her. Shouto steals a glance outside the lockers and wonders if two people can really face that crowd. Momo is smiling confidently, but it's probably for Uraraka's sake.

"I can do it," Shouto says before he meaning of the words that have left his mouth sink in and feels everyone staring at him.

When Shouto suddenly offered to take over Uraraka's shift, Momo wasn't sure she heard him right. And yet here he is, blue apron tied around his waist, jotting down orders, taking his job as serious as he takes his studies. She had her doubts about suddenly dumping the job on him- the new baristas usually undergo a thorough training- but he caught the drift of taking orders fast.

He's handling the customers politely, but he's a bit rusty with his smiles and doesn't seem to be aware of the _many_ first time female customers ogling him. When he was sitting in a corner of the cafe, he was safe from prying eyes, but here, in his uniform and in everyone's view, Momo can't deny he looks dashingly good. She shakes the pang of jealousy she feels- she has no right to feel that way, and it benefits their business so-

"-mo. Momo," someone calls her. When she whips her head around, she's met with mismatched eyes too close for comfort and feels the blood rising to her cheeks. "Did you catch a cold, as well?" Shouto asks and is about to press his palm to her forehead.

She takes a step back and smiles what she hopes to be a convincing smile. "No, I'm alright. Do you need help with something?"

He doesn't look persuaded, but only says, "It's almost closing time. Should I inform that group?" he asks, pointing towards the five or so teenager girls batting their eyelashes sweetly at him.

Momo's eyes shift from him to them and back to him. He hasn't even spared them a sideways glance. She feels stupid now, because it's obvious he has taken no interest in his fans, and she made him worry, too. "It's alright, I can tell them," she smiles, suddenly feeling pity for the girls.

"Okay. I'll start cleaning up then," he says as he picks a wiping cloth and make his way towards the back corner, but not as a customer this time.

The shop is mostly empty, save for the two people swiping the floor. Sato left early today, excusing himself to go pick up his parents from the train station- he has been excited about their visiting his new apartment and workplace for a while now- and Momo assured him she and Shouto could close up just fine.

She would like to thank him somehow, but she also has oh so many questions to ask: how does he know Midoriya? Did he know Ochako was Midoriya's girlfriend? Why did he offer to help? So many words bubble up inside her, racing to get out the fastest, that she can't decide what to say.

Because she can't speak, she supposes she'd let music do it for her, and fishes an old vinyl disc from the back room.

When the music fills the shop with its first violin accords, he raises his eyes from the wooden tiles on the floor. "Strauss-The Blue Danube," he immediately recognises the piece. "Switching back to classical music?" he asks, but it's more of an observation than an actual question.

She feels it would be too cheesy to admit that she's associated the piece with Shouto ever since she saw him, because of his blue eye and serene atmosphere surrounding him. Instead, she says, "It was the least I could do. After all, you've been a huge help today."

She doesn't know how she expected him to react, but it certainly wasn't like this, because after he stares at her for almost a whole minute, seemingly pondering something, he lets the broom rest against a table and stretches his hand out to her. Momo's eyes dart towards the old pickup, and then back to him, wondering if she's misunderstanding.

"Do you want to dance?" he voices her thoughts out loud.

She doesn't get a chance to answer more properly than with a nod: as soon as she approves, he takes her hand and leads the well known waltz, spinning her around the tables in the cafe. Momo quickly finds her pacing, and she also finds out that Shouto is a great dancer. She doesn't know many people that could whirl around the chairs and armchairs without skipping a beat.

"You're good at this," she eventually decides to tell him, after they've almost completed a tour of the entire shop.

It may be her imagination- as this whole evening could be, because what barista's normal shift culminates with waltzing in the closed shop with dim lights- but his lips crook into something akin to a smirk. "I may have not taken piano or violin lessons, but I didn't escape the dance classes. And apparently, neither did you."

Under normal circumstances, Momo would blush, but the song just got faster and she has already decided this is a dream, so she smirks back. Maybe it's because of the music, or the unrealistic situation, or just the timing, but the words finally reach her lips and fall off them with ease. "So you know Midoriya?"

He doesn't hesitate to answer either. "Yes, he is my friend. We've been having classes together ever since the start of the year."

"So you're a Physics major?" There's more spinning, more avoiding tables, more music, more talking. She doesn't know if he has pulled her closer or if her body moved on her own, but she is close enough to realise he is just a bit taller than her, and to look into his mismatched eyes. She decides that people who say that heterochromatic eyes are confusing are lying.

"Yes. Well, actually, I'm a Thermodynamics major, and Midoriya's a Quantum Mechanics major, so we only have a handful of classes together."

"Then I imagine you must be quite good friends if you knew Ochako."

"Actually, I've never seen them together. He did tell me a few things about her, though. I should have recognised her sooner." Something curtains his eyes and Momo can tell it's concern, so she changes the subject.

"I'm a Chemistry major. Food Chemistry, to be exact."

There's silence as their feet slow down with the music, and she wonders if she failed to distract him, but then he says, "It fits you."

"How so?"

He pinpoints her with his mismatched eyes, and spins her for the last encore. "You look like you want to break the world apart and rebuild it so that everybody will be happy," he says as the last notes of The Blue Danube echo in the shop, and then adds, "When it's you that says they believe in magic, I almost believe it, too."

They come to a halt as the melody dies out. For a moment, she stares at him blankly, too focused on his words to even wheeze after the waltz, still holding his hand- the hot one.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, not letting go of her either, and she wonders if she made him worry again.

"Nothing," she smiles, and the smile blooms into a giggle that escalates into a genuine laugh. He looks at her weirdly, but she just finds the situation too bizarre to react to in any other way. It's not long before she hears a deep chuckle, like a purr, mingle with her own and she laughs even louder.

Maybe Ochako was right after all. Maybe she does have a crush on him.

* * *

AN: Hello again!

Sorry for the late chapter, but this has to be my favourite so far! The last part is cheesy, I admit, but I've dropped hints as to Shouto's motives throughout the chapter and chapter 8 will open up with his pov, too, so more things will be explained then. Also, as promised, chapter 8 introduces Kaminari, unless...  
If you want, I was thinking of writing a special chapter, a sort of 7.5, centered around IzuOcha and what happened to them after this night. If you don't want it and prefer that I follow along with the story, let me know in the reviews, but if you DO want it, please do tell!  
Also, I don't know if this excuses my delay but chem nationals happened and I was somehow second so... yey? However, science natoinals are next week so that's why I don't know when I'll post again, ups?  
Anyway, enough ranting! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and till next time (with more coffee shop-related themes, I promise!)! Thanks for all your constant love and support!


	8. Chapter 7,5

**AN:** The IzuOcha special chapter I was talking about. What happened after Deku carried Uraraka home, I wonder?

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 **Chapter 7.5. Erasing the Bad with a Glass of Good Orange Juice**

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Ochako doesn't need to open her eyes to know this is not her apartment. The bed she's resting on is softer than the futon she normally nestles in, and the room smells faintly of aftershave, detergent, and a scent of new notebooks and ink that Ochako has long since labeled as Deku.

A smile has already curled about her lips when her eyelids flutter open and Deku's room, still hazy in the corners of her eyes, welcomes her. The first thing she sees is the bed, empty except for her, his pillow absent. Her eyes then fall onto the floor covered in sheets, supposedly arranged in an improvised bed. The missing pillow is there too, and although its owner is nowhere to be seen, the signs of Deku's messy hair are imprinted on it. Ochako thinks it's cute that Deku never sleeps beside her unless he has her approval, and she guesses she passed out before she could persuade him to share a bed last night.

Ochako sighs as she rolls onto her back and stretches, feeling her muscles ache. The pain in her lower back is enough to remind her of the previous day and of Deku carrying her home. The memories are blurry, but the smell of Deku's shampoo is still pregnant in her mind, as is the feeling of safety that envelopes her.

As if on cue, Ochako sneezes and she instantly feels bad for contaminating Deku's sheets. Before her nose starts running uncontrollably, she wills herself to sit up and swings her feet over the side of the bed. She moves too fast, because she gets dizzy as soon as her feet touch the ground and the bed stops supporting her, and she grips the nightstand to steady herself. It takes her a moment to reassure her panicked brain that she's alright and that she doesn't need to alarm anyone by crying out in pain.

After her vision clears again, she finds the way into the bathroom easily, proving that her brain hasn't forgotten how to function entirely. Then again, Deku's house feels like home, and the feeling is only enhanced by the delicious smell of bacon, which reminds her she hasn't eaten in a while now. Blowing her nose and brushing her teeth with the spare bathroom kit she keeps at Deku's place is all she does before she stumbles into the kitchen to calm her rumbling stomach.

The sight of Deku checking the sizzling meat into the pan feels natural and soothing, and it's only once she gets a good look at his broad shoulders and well built frame that Ochako realises how much she has missed him, like she was missing a piece of a puzzle and couldn't see the whole image.

The comparison is cheap, but her tired brain sees no need for complications. The truth is that she missed him: she missed the way his hair refuses to listen to the brush early in the morning and sticks out in all the wrong places, and the way he offers his undivided attention to the task he's trying to accomplish, and she wonders whether her fever's kicking in again because she feels the sudden need to anchor herself to him.

Deku hears her footsteps on the creaking floorboards and whips his head in her direction before she can reach him, offering her a warm smile that weakens Ochako's knees more than any illness. "Breakfast's almost ready," he announces with the only voice that can make Ochako feel so safe and warm. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better," she assures him, but his palm checks her temperature anyway, It takes Ochako only a glance at Deku's face to find worry displayed in the creases on his forehead. Her hand gently covers her boyfriend's, forcing him to lock eyes with her and drop his makeshift smile.

"I hate it when you're suffering and I'm not there to help you," he sheepishly admits. His wrinkles deepen with a grim expression, and Ochako can swear she hears a part of her heart break over the sizzling sound of the fat in the bacon. Her own face must be painted with the color of concern now, because Deku brushes it off quickly, "But that's something I need to deal with on my own. I know you're really strong, Uraraka, and I'm simply being stupid."

He turns back to check the stove and their meal, and Ochako uses this opportunity to see her plan through and hugs him from behind. She feels his muscles tense under her grip, and she buries her head in his shirt deeper. "You're not being stupid," she says, and although her words are muffled by the material of Deku's shirt, she knows he can hear her. "It's my fault for making you worry. I'm sorry."

She expects him to give her a pep talk about taking care of herself, and she's prepared to tell him that's the pot calling back the kettle, but instead he snickers. Ochako raises her head from his shoulder and peeks at his face- to her surprise, there's a genuine smile Wiping off the creases. "What?" she asks, finding it hard to process the mood swing.

"It's just- you're the one usually worried about me and you're constantly saving me so this is a refreshing reversal." Ochako remembers their first meeting, when Deku almost fell in front of her, and she also recalls how he made a very unexpected joke about "falling for her since day 1" that embarrassed both of them on their first anniversary. Right now, that somehow sounds funny, and she joins him with a giggle of her own.

Deku turns off the stove and Ochako fishes out two plates for them from the overly organised cupboard- _A Cup of Magic_ seems messy in comparison to Deku's perfectly tidy apartment, where everything is in the most practical place and easy to reach. Even so, Ochako knows it's not because of how organised he is that she can find anything in this house- it's because all she needs to do to pinpoint something is think like Deku that she can almost navigate in the apartment with her eyes closed.

She sits down and allows him to pour her a glass of orange juice- of course he ran out to buy oranges for her early in the morning. The pills she needs to take are already next to her glass, and the more Ochako looks around, the more she feels like the whole place has been accommodated to her: there's a pillow on her chair and her dishware is pink, her cup is the one she received from _A Cup of Magic_ as a Christmas/birthday present last year, and of course Deku has circled the dates of her exams on his calendar.

It's not like Ochako isn't used to all of this, but taking it all in and realising many people aren't fortunate enough to be able to take such kind and loving gestures for granted makes her heart swell with love for her caring boyfriend.

"Uraraka," he says, bringing her eyes back to his. He smiles when he realises she was tracking the apartment and mirrors the smile Ochako only now realises she's been sporting. "I've been thinking for a while now, and maybe this incident is the push I needed to ask but would you- would you consider… moving in? With me?"

Ochako blinks fast. Once. Twice. Deku is still staring at her, waiting for her answer. "Move… in?" is all she manages.

"Yes. Of course you don't have to answer right now and it's fine to take your time if this is too soon but I figured we'd move in together at one point anyway and now seems like a good occasion-" he stops for a moment to catch his breath and meets her eyes, and his vooce softens"-because I want to be able to take care of you, and see you everyday, and I don't just hear your voice over the phone."

Ochako feels the bubbly feeling in her chest swell again, until the bubbles increase in volume so much they pop and they overflow. "Yes, of course!" is all she says, but her eyes sparkle and she's sure that, if not for her headache, she'd be bouncing up and down in her seat. For now though, she stops at placing her hand over Deku's and squeezing it hard. "I'd love to," she adds and her statement is accompanied by snuffling. It's just because of her running nose, she is certain.

Deku is blushing, and Ochako's pretty sure so is she, if the warmth of her cheeks is anything to go by, but she doesn't particularly mind it. The prospect of spending more blushing mornings with him, of persuading him to share a bed and wake up with her face in his curly hair, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, to share more breakfasts together and wake up early to make her famous pancakes is enough to choke her with happiness, and Ochako stares into Deku's warm and watery eyes with equal content.

And she thinks that maybe Momo was right, and that there is magic in the mundane, because that's the only logical explanation she can find for a nasty cold to bring her such joy.

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 **AN:** Hi guys!  
I know it's been a really long time and this is very short but in my defense, school is putting me through the living hell known as term papers.  
This chapter doesn't continue the main story, and it's more of a glimpse in IzuOcha's domestic life, but I'm rather fond of it. It's my first time writing izuocha although they're one of my favourite couples and I hope I did them justice:)  
If you guys enjoyed this, I'll write more "special chapters" in the future. Either way next DOES come Kaminari (no more delays) and more Shouto!  
Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you've enjoyed it! I can't thank you enough for the lovely reviews! I even received fanart which is know the cover image of this fic, this is crazy! I must thank the talented AlternateZaragoza for it! Here is the link, if you want to see the whole image: /art/A-Cup-of-Magic-A-Todomomo-AU-fanfic-743716497?ga_submit_new=10%3A1525611377

Till next time, lovely readers, back to our favourite cafe!


	9. Chapter 8

_AN:_ Hi guys!

Yes I am alive, and I'm not giving up on this. This chapter is not as long as Chapter 7, but it helps progress the plot a little further- even if there's not as much fluff. I hope you enjoy it!  
And this time, I recommend listening to Bad Day while reading- it'll cheer you up!

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 **Chapter 8. Lucky Charms and the Magic of Baristas**

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 _A Cup of Magic_ looks as it always does: the door is still pulled open and never quite closed by the countless students who need their caffeine fix, the mahogany colors of its wooden furniture still make Shouto think of fairies and the people inside are still smiling, as if caught in a fairytail.

Except it isn't the same as always, because Uraraka isn't there and because Shouto's hands still remember the shape of Momo's waist and curl around thin air without giving Shouto's brain a heads-up or reasonable explanation for it.

He stares through the window, debating whether to break another one of his habits and go home today. He isn't sure why he keeps replaying the events of yesterday in his head, neither does he know why his cold side feels warmer than usual, but he's sure the two are intricately linked. He doesn't usually feel excitement over meeting people, but he can't deny getting used to the pleasant emotion that tingles in his body like electricity when he sees Momo. Today, he can't make out what he's feeling, because apprehension stings in his chest at the thought of seeing her onyx eyes fixed on him, piercing through his soul, and yet at the same time he _needs_ to see her.

The need to see her eventually wins, and Shouto steps into the store and goes about his usual routine. Or so he'd like to say, but the truth is that his eyes lock on Momo as soon as he recognises her lila apron and the way in which she ties it, managing a perfectly symmetrical bun that hugs her waist, a waist that Shouto now knows is slender and where his palms fit perfectly and he almost walks into the person sitting in front of him in the queue.

Taking a step back, Shouto breathes in the coffee and spices and focuses on the smell, trying to get back to normal. He doesn't know what his- their- _normal_ is, either, but it clearly isn't recognising the smell of her perfume from a foot away- is it Coco Chanel? That's the one his sister always wanted to buy, if he remembers correctly.

The question keeps him occupied long enough for the other clients to order. He advances in the queue mechanically, and by the time Momo is in front of him he still has no idea what to expect or how to behave.

"Hello," she muses, and it sounds like her usual cheery voice. Shouto peeks from behind his bangs, but she's already scribbling his order on the cup. When she finally looks up, their eyes meet for a brief second before hers dart to the receipt being spit out by the machine, and a faint blush colors her cheekbones. Shouto's first thought is "It suits her", the second one is "So she remembers too" and the third one makes him talk.

"Did you by any chance also catch a cold?"

He probably sounded more urgent than he needed to, because she blinks blankly at him for a few seconds before chuckling warmly. "I didn't," she assures him with that smile that Shouto is sure could be sold for millions, but that would be spoiled by the public eye and robbed of its purity. When she slides the bancnote out of his hand, he ponders giving her double just for the smile, but perishes the thought quickly- nothing is quite as precious.

Watching her smile makes him feel lighter, and his heart oozes with warmth and floods his stomach with a sort of fuzzy feeling that doesn't make him sick or uncomfortable. It's the same thing he felt last night, when he spun with her in the cafe, when her slender fingers touched his shoulder and her hand found its place in his, as if they were made to match. It's the same feeling he got when he visited his mom in the hospital for the first time in years and she hugged him with tears streaming down her withered cheeks.

He could get used to this- acceptance, belonging, feeling home, or whatever the generally accepted term was. He could even learn to like change- as long as she was there.

* * *

It's a hectic day, Shouto concludes as he watches people pour into the cafe, just as waves flood the shore, only exiting to make room for new customers. Momo is engaged in her neverending dance, pulled by an invisible string tying the bar and the machines together, preparing one drink after another with a speed and precision that Shouto didn't have the chance to appreciate before. He's certain that she knows the cafe like the back of her hand and that she loves it deeply, because not even once does her smile falter or an involuntary sigh escape her lips.

 _A Cup of Magic_ is so busy that not even Sato enters the kitchen for any other reason than to bring out new cakes, and Shouto figures that must be taking a toll on the cook. He even ponders offering to help again, but an orange-haired employee beats him to it when she glides behind the bar and starts helping Momo at the counter. He's seen this girl only once before, when he was working in the kitchen last Saturday, so she must be working on the weekend shifts. If she had to be called in, Shouto guesses the shop is in a real pinch.

It's not until the clock beats 9pm that the density of customers starts shrinking and he gets to see Momo again. She's swiping, but she doesn't hum like she usually does while cleaning, and no matter how wide the smile she offers Shouto is, he can still read the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Let me do that," he says and takes the broom out of her hands before she can protest. That doesn't mean she doesn't voice her thoughts on the matter, in fact she insists to clean the shop herself, but her voice is quiet and when Shouto shows her to a chair in response, she plops on it with little of the elegance than she puts into her moves most of the time.

"Thank you," she mutters, stretching her legs as Shouto swipes under her table. "Your helping yesterday and now this- we really ought to pay you."

Shouto frowns. "I didn't ask for payment."

"Of course not," she answers, and there's something ludic to her voice. He doesn't know why, but when he looks up the onyx is molten and the tiredness is joined by amusement, so he doesn't question it much. "But still, you've been a huge help. I owe you one."

He would like to say otherwise- she has been helping him all along, and simply seeing that diamond smile is more than enough. But he knows her well enough to know she'll try to repay him anyway, so he says, "I'll cash it in when I'll need it."

This response seems to satisfy her, and she hums a tired answer. Shouto peeks at her through his bangs while swiping- now that she's finally resting, the exhaustion of the day makes itself visible. Her shoulders slump and she cushions her chin on the bed of her arms, in a position that allows Shouto to observe some strands of hair fighting for their liberty, content with any random position as long as it is out of her ponytail.

They don't talk for several minutes, but Shouto finds it refreshing. It's so simple, yet her mere presence there makes him feel at ease. She's watching him quietly, without prying- just observing, perhaps lost in thought or maybe thinking of nothing at all, curled up in herself, and Shouto finds the sight of "tired Momo" just as breathtaking as "cheery Momo".

There's something raw about her beauty and the way in which she can exist without feeling the need to reaffirm herself using words- " _just like classical music"_ , he remembers- the way in which she understands him without asking, the way in which she loves this shop so much she doesn't even complain about today, and Shouto finally figures out why _A Cup of Magic_ feels different from other places. It's the love everybody who works there pours into their job, and the attachment they have to the place and to each other.

His movements pick up, and he makes himself clean the place until it sparkles. Momo chuckles faintly at his sudden change of heart, and he smiles without facing her.

"Are you going to get help around here?" he eventually asks, making a mental schedule of when he could take shifts.

She hums affirmatively. "I put up an announcement for interviews last week, and I will hold them tomorrow. I should have done it earlier- November and December are the toughest months. Also the most productive ones," she says with the flat voice of a businessman. It doesn't sounds natural for her to be this detached, and Shouto blames it all on stress.

"If you need, I think I could take some shifts every now and then."

She's silent for a moment, and when Shouto whips his head around to face her, she's squared her shoulders again and her eyes sparkle. "Thank you. That's really sweet." She pushes herself up and adds, "I appreciate it, but I wouldn't be a good barista if I let you do all the work. So wish me luck with the interviews tomorrow?"

It comes out as a question, but Shouto nods anyway. And then she takes the broom and waves him goodbye before he can find any smart closing remarks.

If this cafe is magical indeed, Shouto is pretty sure Momo is its source of magic- and that he's addicted to it.

* * *

Everyone has a story- it's the exchange money used in relationships. After all, Momo is painfully aware that people don't empathise with a person, but with the story behind them- she learnt that at a young age, and the thought stings at the back of her mind, like a chronic migraine. Perhaps that's why she was set on gathering all sorts of stories at _A Cup of Magic_ , and why her parents always insisted on her seeing beyond the summary on the cover.

Ochako came last year- bubbly and a tad bit awkward, she was a natural at spreading happiness. Her story was a nice memory- going to _A Cup of Magic_ for her first date with her boyfriend, and wanting to help others live such wonderful things. "To be honest," she told Momo during the interview, "I need the money. I came to get the job because of that- but then I sat here, waiting for my turn, and watched the staf joke with each other even when they were crazy busy, and it occured to me that this was the sort of people I wanted to be with."

Others, like Kirishima, came there to get a fresh start. One late summer night, when they were doing the seasonal cleaning, he told Momo that he never considered himself someone others would look up to, and if he couldn't be that, he wanted to at least be part of the "what made my day bearable" of a handful of people. Momo smiled back then, as she does now- Kirishima is the most energetic morning employee, and every customer feels pumped up after talking to him.

Kendou came there out of inertia. She was the model barista, never misspelling a name, never messing up an order, always on time, always there. Momo had no reason to turn her down- and yet, something felt out of place. Only when she started letting loose, chatting with Sato and making jokes with Mina did Momo understand what was missing- having fun. Kendou never thanked Momo outright for anything, but sometimes, she'd smile with a softness that Momo hadn't seen back in her first month at the cafe, and that's a precious souvenir Momo keeps in her smiles collection.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, there's Mina- always gleeful and always eager to try something new. She started working here by chance and messed up the most out of everyone, but she came to love the place just as much as anyone else. She's the spice of _A Cup of Magic_ , and if not for Mina once telling Momo that this is the only place where she feels she belongs, she would have never guessed how much they mean to her.

And Sato. Sato's the only one who has always resonated with _A Cup of Magic_ 's core. He's been there for four years now, he's practically grown with the cafe and he knows Momo better than any other barista. He works there full-time, and even over the opening hours, and his stamp on the kitchen is visible even for newcomers, but he never accepted to become the official patissiere. His dream is to open his own bakery, "one with an atmosphere as eerie as the one here". When Momo offered to fund his passion project, he turned her down without second thoughts. "There's no meaning if I can't do it on my own."

"Creati," Sato says, and his voice startles Momo. He gently nudges her with a cup. "You need to stay hydrated," he smiles and nods towards the beverage.

Momo smells the coffee and the butterflies in her stomach stir all in the same direction for once. Sato first made this blend for her when she had her entrance exams for university, when she was stressed, tired, and functioning solely on caffeine and cakes. He found her health poor, and developed a decaf blend that never fails to help her settle down and clear her head.

She smiles gratefully, though the corners of her lips shake a little, and takes a greedy sip. The warmth fills her system and she finally realizes how cold her fingertips really are.

"Man, you really are a bundle of nerves, Creati," Sato chuckles and props his elbow on the counter after he exchanges a quick glance with Kendou and she nods in approval of his stepping out. Returning his undivided attention to Momo, he adds soothingly, "It's going to be okay."

Momo knows he isn't just saying that- Sato means every word that comes out of his mouth- but she still feels a heavy burden hanging on her shoulders. "I'm just scared I'll pick the wrong person," Momo admits and glances out the window at the queue starting to form. Who knew so many people wanted a part-time job at _A Cup of Magic_? "Half of them are in just for the money," Momo thinks out loud.

"But half of them aren't," Sato points out. Momo sighs anxiously- it's like she's the one being interviewed, and not the interviewer. "Look, even if they aren't going to be _the one_ you're looking for, we'll always back you up. We've got each other's backs, don't we?" Sato asks with a grin, holding his fist up.

"Always," Momo answers and fistbumps him.

* * *

The suit feels too preppy, but Momo knows it's part of the course for the interviewer. Still, the constant fear that she may stain it with Sato's delicious coffee and the stiffness of the attire makes her second-think her clothing choice. Is it too pretentious?

She's been worrying about this yesterday too, and she was thankful the day was busy enough to keep her from being a jittery mess. She wasn't this nervous for her entrance exams- words on paper can't lie, but humans can and often do deceive one.

She's shaken out of her neverending train of concerns when someone sits across from her. White and red hair fills her vision field and her cheeks color behind the blush she's applied scarcely- she sat at Shouto's table out of habit.

"So, you're here as a customer today?" he asks, removing the lid on his tea cup- the first cup he was ordered in a while that hasn't her handwriting on it.

"Kind of. I'm here to get my caffeine fix before I start looking for a suitable barista." His presence makes her suddenly too aware of the red lipstick she's wearing and she feels even more overdressed. At least her hair is up as usual, a soothing voice in her head whispers in a vain attempt to get her to calm down. It's not even Shouto's fault that she is this anxious- though granted, the fact that he has been a lot on her mind lately doesn't help much, either.

"Are you nervous?" he reads her like a book. The lack of confidence in her own decisions isn't something she needs to worry her staff with- and she doesn't want to bother Shouto either.

"A bit," she eventually admits and mulls on the margin of her paper cup, staining it with red. His eyes are fixed on hers, encouraging her to pour her soul out. "This isn't about me- but about what's best for the cafe. The staff here loves working together, and taking on someone new is like adopting a child. I want to find someone who isn't in just for the cash or the CV reference, but because they want to add to their smiles collection."

She wonders if she's sputtered too much nonsense, but Shouto nods gravely. "I think it's impossible not to like this place," he looks sincere as he says it, and Momo wonders if this is a backhanded confession that he likes it here. A bit of her confidence returns at the prospect. "And you have a good eye for people," he adds matter-of-factly. "I'm sure that's why the staff here trusts you with the interview- as do I."

Momo truly blushes now, and she downs the rest of her coffee before thanking him. "You're something else, Shouto," she chuckles at the irony of it all- she approached him to make him believe in magic, but now he's her lucky charm.

* * *

Shouto isn't usually influenced by how others feel, but he'd have to completely lack common sense not to notice the tension floating in the air in _A Cup of Magic_. It isn't even floating- it's much too dense for that- but more like pressing onto everyone. It strikes him as very uncomfortable and he wishes for the interviews to be over as soon as possible.

The last thing he wishes for, however, happens, and one of those jittery baristas-to-be sits down in front of him.

He wouldn't have even bothered to look up at the guy if he hadn't asked "Is this seat taken?" Shouto is about to say "yes" and pray that Momo needed a sudden coffee refill and steps out, but something about the guy makes him grunt a negative comeback. Maybe it's the unusual blond hair, or the charming smile, but the fact remains that he sits across from Shouto and stretches lazily.

"Are you also here for the job?" he asks, but it's only smalltalk. After all, Shouto's physics assignments are spread on the table in full view.

"No," he replies still. "But I suppose you are."

"I guess you could say so," the guy says and smiles sheepishly. Shouto makes one of his eyebrows disappear curiously under the mop of white hair. "I'm not here for the job per se. I mean I want the post, of course," he corrects himself with wide gestures, "but not because I want to be a barista that badly. Then again, the baristas here aren't really baristas," he shakes his head. "I don't make any sense, do I? I'll shut up if I'm annoying you."

There's something about the way he talks that makes his blabbering endearing instead of annoying and natural instead of overly friendly. The fact that he has enough common sense to stop is also a factor that plays into Shouto's decision to talk. "What do you mean?" he asks instead of shutting him up. Maybe Momo's kindness has rubbed off him.

His smile is electric. "The staff here doesn't give off the 'I'm just doing my job and I want to get out of here as soon as my shift is over' vibe. It's like they're part of the natural landscape here, you know? And they always make their clients smile- I wanna find out _how_ they do that."

Shouto thinks the guy sitting in front of him already has the answer to that question- the way he easily interacts with an unknown person proves that he's no stranger to the way people's hearts work, so he can't help but further inquire, "I assume you have a reason for wanting this information."

The guy flashes his teeth in another dazzling smile. "I'm a music major, but you could say I'm in a bind. You see, sad stuff isn't my thing- I want to compose songs that bring a smile on people's faces no matter how miserable their day was. You know _Bad Day_? Kinda like that. _A Cup of Magic_ has the same effect on people- and I'd like to partake in that."

Maybe Momo's habits have indeed rubbed off him, or his intuition was right and this guy already is charismatic, but Shouto smiles the smallest smile, surprising himself in the process. The honesty of this blonde stranger strikes a chord somewhere in the list of qualities Shouto appreciates in people and he finds himself saying, "I think you're quite suited for the job."

"Really?" His eyes grow wide- he must not get compliments often. "Thanks dude! But there are many people here, so I'm not sure it'll be that easy."

" _I want to find someone who isn't in just for the cash or the CV reference, but because they want to add to their smiles collection."_ Shouto remembers and bites back a chuckle. Looks like Momo was worrying over nothing. "I'm pretty sure she'll like you if you're honest."

"She?" the guy repeats, confused.

Just then, Momo peeks outside the door of the office and calls the name of the next candidate. "Kaminari Denki?"

"That's me!" The guy- Kaminari- gets up and smiles coyly. "Thanks for listening," he tells Shouto and holds out his fist. At first, Shouto isn't quite sure why, but then he remembers Midoriya would sometimes fistbump Iida, and he pushes his own fist against Kaminari's in a 'good luck' gesture.

As he watches the door close behind him, he wonders what name his tag would have. For a split second, he even thinks that Kaminari has a little of the magic of the cafe growing inside of him- and then he begins wondering what magic even is.

* * *

AN: Hello again!

It's been a long time, hasn't it? Many of you told me A Cup of Magic helps you relax after a bad day, so this chapter is exactly about that, and how friends can help you cope with nervousness. Speaking if friends, I really love the relationship between Sato and Momo, and I was considering writing a special chapter for their brotp, if you'd like it. Not now though, because next comes Kamijirou!  
The next two chapters will be quite heavy on the Kaminari-Jirou interactions, but worry not! Todomomo will appear too, and they'll grow through watching their friends!  
Quick info: you can always find me on tumblr ionica01 if you want to chat! I hope you've enjoyed this and I'll see you next time with another cup of (decaf) coffee~


	10. Chapter 9

In which Kaminari learns the ropes of being a barista, discovers he can do magic with a wand and sees his high school crush again. Also in which Kirishima makes his debut because I love him.

* * *

 **Chapter 9. Resuming in a New Place**

* * *

It only takes about 20 minutes for Kaminari to decide that he loves his new workplace. It's mostly thanks to his boss - he has a shock when he learns that the nice girl who interviewed him is also the owners' daughter, but she shows up again this morning and briefs him in on the details of his job - and the guy who's in charge of his training, as the boss-lady put it, Sugarman. Kaminari knows his real name is actually Sato, but Sugarman suits him so much better, despite his robust build.

"Yo!" a redhead calls as he shuffles into the shop in the wee hours of the morning, folding his umbrella. They aren't even open for business yet, so Kaminari guesses this must be his new coworker.

"I'm calling a real downpour for later today," the newcomer continues, his enthusiasm not damped even a notch by the gloomy sky as he strolls towards the counter. "You must be the new guy. Creati told us she'd found someone. Name's Kirishima," he offers a hand.

Kaminari needs a total of 10 seconds to take in Kirishima's face, red spiky hair supported by an ungodly amount of gel and sharp teeth punctuating the wide smile, and decides that he loves his coworker, too. "Kaminari. Looking forward to working with you."

"Nice handshake, man," Kirishima says and then knocks his knuckles on Sugarman's shoulder. "Counter or drinks?"

"Drinks; let Kaminari work at the counter today."

"Got it," Kirishima grins and shouts as he skips for the locker room, "Be right there!"

And he _is_ right there. About one minute later, he's shrugged off the heavy red jacket and has draped an equally red apron over his waist - Kaminari appreciates the multicolored aprons, and the liberty to choose whichever one you want; he went for yellow - pinned the name badge to his shirt and strolled back behind the counter.

He's tying the apron behind his back with practiced ease when he elbows Kaminari slightly. "Come in the back, we have to bring in the coffee."

It's barely 5am, but Kirishima is wide awake and chatters all the way to the storage room and back. "You sure started your shift early," he says as he leads Kaminari through a door with a "Staff Only" sign, and pushes the heavy metal knob open.

"Yeah well, Creati said that the sooner I'm done with my training the sooner I can actually work around here. I'm kinda pumped," he admits with a childish grin.

As the lights in the storage room flicker to life, Kaminari notices his coworker is mirroring his grin. "I get you. Man, you're going to love this place! Sato's got the best sweets and Creati's literally the best boss. And the clients? They all love her and this cafe. You just need to get used to the names, but don't worry, we'll teach you. Grab that box, would you?" he says as he heaves two boxes into his own arms.

The box must have like a bazillion milk cartons inside because it threatens to break Kaminari's arms, but Kirishima seems to have no problem balancing the two boxes tucked under his chin. It's only then, in the dim lights of the storage room, that Kaminari notices how ripped he is, the way the sweater hugs his worked muscles, and he gains new found respect for Kirishima just 5 minutes after meeting him.

Loading the coffee machine, checking the drawers and learning the name of teas proves to be easy with Kirishima and Sugarman providing stories that put every strange name into context. His favourite story is that of the _Pink_ _Elixir,_ which isn't pink at all, but which was created by Ashido, whose favourite color is pink.

"She was just cleaning up and there were these unfinished drinks that she got a sudden urge to mix. She said the color was really pretty so she tried redoing the mix whilst adjusting the ratio of milk to tea and it turned out to be a success." Kirishima rubs the sweat of his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smudge of coffee behind.

"That's just random," Kaminari laughs.

"It's Ashido," Kirishima shrugs. "You'll meet her after the lunch break- she switches with me."

"Do you guys all know each other around here?"

"Pretty much," Kirishima nods. "Creati shifts our working hours so we all get to work with everyone else, and we also have parties or meetings outside work. They're great people," Kirishima grins and gives Kaminari a thumbs-up, and despite having worked with the redhead for no more than two hours, Kaminari finds himself trusting his colleague entirely.

As he snoops through the rest of the menu, Kaminari finds out the _Smiling Potion_ is the first beverage to have ever been sold in _A Cup of Magic._

"That's Momo's creation," Sugarman says as he wipes the tables in the shop with a wet towel, preparing to open in 15 minutes. "Her parents are tea-drinkers - her dad is a business man and apparently drinking tea puts people in a favorable state of mind for signing contracts. When she was little, she experimented with the tea leaves laying around the house, and the _Smiling Potion_ was her first success."

Kaminari sniffs at the blend. The only scent he can make out is cinnamon, as well as something rather spicy that wafts into his nostrils and makes him crinkle his nose.

"Ginger," Sugarman chuckles. "Also Schisandra Berries, licorice root and dried green stevia leaves. It works wonders against stress thanks to the adaptogen support."

"Adapto-what?" Kaminari blinks at Sugarman blankly. Half of the ingredients he's just mentioned danced through his right ear and waltzed out the left one.

"Adaptogens," Sugarman repeats. "Substances used in herbal medicine for the stabilization of psychological processes. But you don't need to remember all that," he assures Kaminari with one of those trademark Sugarman smiles that puts dimples in his cheeks and makes anyone who listens to him believe in world peace and kindness.

"That's awesome tho!" Kaminari's excitement reaches an unusual level for 6 am, and he pulls another drawer open. " _Winter Wonderland_?"

"Spearmint, peppermint and a dash of cinnamon. Also, orange peels, but we just keep them in the infusion during the steeping."

And then he keeps going. Sugarman is an encyclopedia of tea ingredients, and he teaches Kaminari how to recognize certain smells. Until the first customers pour in at 6:30, Kaminari learns how to distinguish the fragrances of rooibos, hibiscus, lemongrass, rose buds and jasmine. He also learns that tea leaves easily absorb other fragrances, which is why they are stored away from the coffee, in separate, wooden drawers.

As the customers begin rolling in, he also begins understanding Kirishima's words. They're mostly stressed out students, getting their espressos before their depressos, but they're nice people. They ask if he's new, and chat a little- it feels refreshing, giving how early it is. Talking with strangers is maybe what Kaminari's best at, and they seem to appreciate the coffee puns (it's a brewtiful day after all) and his musical choices - it's a custom to have new employees choose the music of the day, and Kaminari couldn't be happier to put his DJ skills to good use.

"You're doing great, man!" Kirishima says about 7, and gives him a friendly slap on the back as he hands him the _Energy Refill_ \- it's actually foamed full milk marked with shots of espresso, and it's the most popular drink this morning despite not being the strongest. Then again, there's still a week until exams and despair kick in with full force, and all-nighters push them to get the _Insomnia Fix_ \- two straight shots of espresso.

About 7:15, the shop becomes really crowded, and people bump in the threshold as the queue starts winding between tables and stools. Nobody really stays to drink their coffee in, despite the rain drumming an alert rhythm onto the rooftops and the puddles merging into lakes where the pavement sunk, flooding the draining system. Every time the door opens, a gust of crisp, wet wind reaches the counter, whipping Kaminari's face. Every five minutes, one of the three employees mops the floor, muddy with footprints and small coffee stains.

And then the magic of the shop kicks in. As soon as moody people walk in, Sugarman spots them and passes a jar of still-steaming American cookies in the long line for free. The gloomy expressions melt into the soft light of the shop, and the harsh lines fade into weary smiles. Kaminari blasts _Hail Rain or Sunshine_ in the cafe, and hums along to the lyrics. Some clients join him, and he drags Kirishima into singing the refrain, even though it's his first time hearing the song.

Kirishima, he finds out, is all about that- trying new things, opening up to people. When Kaminari goes back to the storage room to bring another bottle of fresh milk and cream, as well as flour and eggs for Sugarman's newest batch of pastries, he returns to find Kirishima at the counter, toothy smile and horny hair, and he has an epiphany.

If Kirishima's all muscles and good natured advice and encouragements and spiky, manly hair, and Sugarman's all strong build and keen taste buds and an encyclopedia of tea and coffee knowledge, Kaminari must be about music and grinning at every customer and cracking jokes, and that's all he needs before notes start stringing together in his head.

At 8am he finds out he's good at drawing random things in the cappuccino foam with the wand and realises all you need in order to be happy are these little things in life, and he gets why this is A Cup of _Magic_.

He hands out an _Energy Refill_ with a kitty face engraved in the foam for a Medical Sciences major buried under a kitten sweater as he hums a small tune to himself. "What's that you're singing, man?" Kirishima asks as he hands him a new drink to be touched on by his magic wand.

Kaminari shrugs. "I don't know, but I'm about to find out."

* * *

The clock strikes 12 when Creati opens the door to the shop, the skirts of her lab coat sneaking out from under her jacket and the ends of her hair sticking to her wet neck. It looks like the umbrella she's laying to dry didn't have much of an effect against the downpour Kirishima had put dibs on.

Despite being drenched, Creati smiles at Kaminari and takes a seat on a counter stool. "How's your day been so far?"

Kaminari beams at her. "Brilliant," he admits, and sees her smile widen. "I still am kinda slow with drinks, but I'm a master at taking orders," he confidently says and whirls the wand in his hand. "And at making A+ foam drawings," he winks, and Creati chuckles.

"Well, master, how about going back to your forming queue?" Sugarman jokes, pointing to the line forming at the cashier.

Then he looks at Creati and sighs, "Ashido! Make me a _Winter Wonderland!_ " before he disappears into the lockers room and returns with a towel that he throws on Creati's head. "And you, take care of yourself! We don't want our chief barista to get a cold with Christmas around the corner!"

Creati smiles sheepishly and puts her best innocent face on, eliciting a heavy sigh out of Sugarman. Kaminari sensed it this morning, but the two look like lifelong friends. "Are they super close or something?" he asks Ashido when she passes him the _Winter Wonderland_ and a _Molten Enigma_.

Ashido is like Kirishima in many regards, horny hair and bubbly personality, as well as the contagious smile, though less toothy, granted. She's also all about pink, vibrant, electric pink at that, if her apron and sweater are anything to go by.

She hums in answer, "Sugarman's been here for four years. He knows Yaomomo better than any of us, and they've been the pillars of the business."

"You call her Yaomomo? That's so cool, can I borrow that?" When Ashido nods with a grin, he goes back to the subject, "So this shop is how old exactly?"

"Turning 15 this year," she says after a moment's thought. "That's right, the anniversary's coming, right Yaomomo?" she raises her voice to get her boss's attention.

"November 23rd," Creati - Yaomomo confirms, sipping her tea. "Speaking of which, we need to think of the menu for the day," she tells Sugarman, pulling a notebook out of her purse. Women's purses have always been a mystery to Kaminari: they are regular sized, but you could find anything there. Literally anything. He can't wrap his head around that.

"I'll need you all guys on that day, but we'll discuss it in more detail at the next meeting," Yaomomo says as she pulls out a pen, too, and starts discussing a special drink for the anniversary and promotional items. Even as she does so, she doesn't look like a business woman, but more like an excited child creating a menu for her doll party. Maybe that's why she chose Creati as a name.

As he draws a thumbs up in the latte, Kaminari wonders what name he's going to chose for himself. Maybe Pikachu? A girl he had a crush on in high school used to call him that. Sometimes, he still wonders what she's up to. After all, it's thanks to her that he's a Music Major now.

* * *

Shouto isn't surprised to find Kaminari wearing the _A Cup of Magic_ apron when he enters the coffee shop, neither does Momo teaching him about Arabica and Robusta beans and how dark roasts have less caffeine than lighter roasts take him aback. When their eyes meet, the blond smiles widely and waves his hand as if they have been friends for ages.

"You're here again!" Kaminari exclaimes as Shouto reaches the counter, holding his fist up in the air again. Shouto wonders if Kaminari does this with everyone, but doesn't particularly mind the fistbumping - there's something about the atmosphere at this cafe that makes him more relaxed, and he breathes easier in the air smelling of grounded coffee.

"You know each other?" Momo seems surprised, and Shouto can't blame her - he's just as amused by the ease with which Kaminari has befriended him, if that is the right term to use.

"Yep," Kaminari smiles one of his electric smiles again, and Shouto figures he could get used to this, although he still prefers Momo's ciy smiles that make her soft around the edges. "He gave me really good advice before the interview!"

"He did?" Momo asks rhetorically, tilting her head as if she's trying to figure something out.

"So are you a regular here?" Kaminari asks again, excitement obvious in his voice and overwhelming Shouto. Nobody's usually so interested in him - but then again, this coffee shop is far from usual.

"Yes."

"Can I try my first drink on you?" The golden eyes are fixed on him, imploring him to say "yes". Shouto looks at Momo in search of an escape, but the onyx of her irises is just as pleading and Shouto sighs. "I guess."

"Dude, you're my hero!" Kaminari skips to the coffee machine, and then returns to Shouto, mildly embarrassed. "Uhm, maybe I should have asked this before, but what's your order?"

Shouto can't help the crinkling smile on his face. "Green tea, medium."

"Gotcha!"

Momo chuckles at his excitement, and even more at Ashido's exasperated sighs as she slaps Kaminari's hands away from the brew. Shouto feels his smile grow, and hides it behind his scarf. "He looks like a handful."

"He is," Momo says quietly. "But he's a natural charmer, and that might be what we missed around here." Shouto would argue she's a charmer, too, but he somehow gets what she means. Unlike her, Kaminari isn't well-mannered or soft spoken, but he isn't a jerk either. He's naturally clumsy and somehow that only serves to make him more endearing.

"He's doing well for his first day, though," Momo notices, and leans against the counter, as if a huge burden was lifted off her shoulders. "I'm so glad I wasn't wrong on this one."

Shouto remembers how stressed out she was just a day before and loosens a breath he didn't know he was holding. It's strange how her worries affect him, but words have never been his strong suit, so he comforts her by pulling out the daily bag of scones.

Momo's face lights up as they fall on the scones, and she then raises her eyes to him. "That's it! One day of being able to walk into the kitchen and be a barista yourself!"

"What?"

"Ah, this is perfect! Sato, I've got it," she calls the barista frosting a piece of cake for table 16, ignoring Shouto's bewildered look. Sato looks up, just as curious. "For the shop's anniversary, we can let customers walk behind the counter! Under our supervision, of course, but they may want to know what it's like to be an employee of _A Cup of Magic_!"

"There is an anniversary?" Shouto asks, still not sure what's going on.

"Yes! November 23rd is the date _A Cup of Magic_ opened, and we're celebrating 15 years next week!"

"Oh," Shouto says, but what he actually means is "waw". He can't believe the sparkling clean shop is 15. It's been here for so long, and there's a mythical feeling about it, like there's more to this small coffee place, and yet it always feels new. There's another item on the menu each day, and just because Shouto doesn't change his order doesn't mean he doesn't notice the constant upgrade.

Before the news truly sinks in, Kaminari returns with his drink. Instead of Momo's beautifully written _Shouto_ on the cup, there is now a messily scribbled _Awesome Dude_ , and it almost makes him laugh, but he doesn't give Kaminari that satisfaction.

"So? How is it?" There are the puppy eyes again, and Shouto hides a sigh by sipping on his drink.

It tastes no different than the usual, and he says just as much, earning a grin from the barista-in-training. That grin soon fades though, and Shouto and Momo exchange a concerned glance before following Kaminari's sudden wistful look.

There's a woman sitting besides Shouto now. She's shorter than Momo, purple hair in a bob style and one earphone plugged out as she squints at the menu. When she opens her mouth to order "One _Caramel Delight_ grande" Shouto recognizes her as Momo's best friend.

Apparently so does Kaminari. "Jirou?"

* * *

Momo's eyes dart between her newest employee and her best friend. Kyouka's eyes widen as she zeroes in on Kaminari, whose face is split by a grin wider than any she's ever seen him sport. Kyouka, on her part, looks slightly confused and mostly surprised.

"Jirou? Is that really you? Woah, I haven't seen you in _years_! Remember me?"

"Pikachu," she swallows.

"You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?" he laughs, and then adopts a serious face. "May I get your order?"

Kyouka's eyes slide sideways to Momo. "You hired this idiot?"

"Agh Jirou, you're as harsh as ever!" Kaminari laments, but both women ignore him.

"You know him?" Momo settles for asking, pinning Kyouka with her eyes. They've been friends since middle school and she never mentioned a Pikachu. It's not like Momo expects Kyouka to tell her everything, but she feels hurt for not knowing about the guy that makes her best friend blush at this question.

"We were in the same class during the first year of high school," she says as if her face didn't just get a shade redder.

"And we were also in a band together," Kaminari helpfully supplies, oblivious to the tension that makes Kyouka elbow him. "Ouch, what was that for?"

"Just get me my Caramel Latte," she sighs and then informs Momo, "Shop's pretty empty so I'll be borrowing your amplifier. Get me when my drink's ready." And with that, she plugs her earphone back in and leaves.

"Sheesh, she's as cold as ever," Kaminari sighs, but there's a goofy smile taking over his face, and Momo knows that and her friend's blush can only mean one thing.

"Oh, is that a crush I'm spotting?" Mina asks, blooming in front of them out of the wooden floor. Momo forgot she and Shouto were even there, and as Kaminari nods, she forgets that again.

"I had a massive crush on her in high school," he admits like it's nothing. "Damn, she's even more beautiful now." He pushes the cup with the order in Mina's hands, and whooses her back to work with a push towards the tea drawers.

"But that's not all, is it?" Momo finds herself asking, and bites her lower lip. She shouldn't be this nosy, but she can't help the feeling that there's more to the wistful glances Kaminari steals in Kyouka's direction, even if he can't actually see her.

"It's not."

* * *

 _It's late. Late enough that the school is almost empty and the sky is painted hues of pink and red. Kaminari hates getting punished for being late, but he hates waking up on time even more, so he guesses he had it coming. If he has to clean the lockers of the judo club one more time, though, he might reconsider his morning routine. That place_ stinks.

 _He's heading for his classroom to gather his stuff when he hears it. It's faint at first, and he thinks he must be mistaken, because who'd play the guitar instead of going home? Club activities are over and everything, too. But as he gets closer to his classroom, he knows his ears aren't wrong, and he passes by his destination to find the person passionate enough about music to stay behind in school._

 _Kaminari rattles the door to the music club room open to find a single person there. It's a girl with purple eyes and long jack earrings, who cradles a guitar in her arms and jolts when she hears the door opening, her eyes still on the chords. She looks up at him and presses the guitar closer to her chest, as if she was caught red handed._

 _When the purple eyes curtained by fear meet his gold, inquisitive ones, Kaminari realises the girl is in the same class as him._

" _Jirou?" The mention of her name startles her, as if it exposes her darkest secrets. "What are you doing?"_

 _She jumps up, hiding the guitar behind her as if he didn't see it already or her fragile frame would be enough to make it invisible. "I'm- I was just about to go."_

 _She rushes past him, but he catches her wrist. She freezes and looks absolutely terrified when meeting his eyes. Kaminari lets go of her hand and smiles encouragingly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. You can continue." Some of the tension leaves her body. "Can I listen?" A wild blush blooms on her face and she steps away from him, as if his smile is burning her._

 _He hasn't talked to Jirou much, but she doesn't seem like the shy kind. She talks to her classmates easily, and he even saw her cracking jokes. Maybe it's him that's making her uncomfortable?_

 _He's genuine when he beams and says, "I think playing the guitar is so cool!"_

 _She blushes a darker shade of red, rivaling the crimson color of the sky, but walks back to her spot and fits her fingers on the chords. "Are you going to stand there like an idiot or what?" she eventually says without looking up at him. Her words hold no bark._

 _He smiles to himself as he takes a seat on the floor and crosses his legs, watching her play. He hasn't noticed it before, but her fingers are long and slender, the flesh ripped on her forefinger, nails longer than his, but not long enough to be painted, and her hands look pretty as she uses them to tug at the strings._

 _She licks her lips and tucks her hair behind her ears. It's like she enters a world of her own when she starts playing, bobbing her head to a tune Kaminari doesn't recognise, her eyes glued to the guitar but at the same time lost in a place so far away on;y her songs can reach it. For a moment, Kaminari feels like he can see what she sees, like he can feel the wind in his hair and see a rusted forest, catch a glimpse of a highway, but then he blinks and the song is over and she's looking at him with purple, mesmerising, intense eyes the likes of which Kaminari has never before and never since seen._

 _It becomes their thing, staying behind at school without being enrolled in the music club, just to play. At first he listens to her, and learns she can play virtually any instrument, from chords to no chords to bells. Then she offers to teach him. He finds out she's actually patient, snarky but kind at the same time, and that her fingers are soft over his despite their rough exterior._

" _You're actually quite good at this," she tells him one August evening, as they walk together to the station. The wind is whooshing past them, toying with her long earrings, and Kaminari feels like he can hear Cliffs of Dover - the song she was playing on the day he met the real her._

" _Nowhere near as good as you," he says, his aching fingers proof of how much he still has to learn. "Are you thinking about going pro?"_

 _Jirou huffs a laugh at that. "No way. I could never play in public." She shudders at the thought._

" _Sure you could!" Kaminari protests. "Hey, here's an idea: how about we start a band?"_

" _Are you nuts?" She looks at him as if he just told her Mozart liked pop._

" _I'm serious!" he says and earns an elbow in his ribs. "You're good, Jirou! Don't let that go to waste! Do you have anything else you want to do that badly?"_

" _There isn't, but that's not the point. I can barely play in front of you, Pikachu!"_

" _Am I that scary?" he laughs._

" _No, you're not." Her voice is much softer than he expected. "I just don't do that well in front of people, you know? Being able to play it's fun, and it's fun with you. But it's just that:_ fun. _It's a hobby, and-"_

" _It doesn't have to be a hobby." He stops walking and grabs both of her shoulders, trapping her eyes in his. "You've got what it takes to make it to pro, Jirou!"_

" _The pro world is tough, Kaminari." A glum look takes over her face as she holds his steady gaze._

" _Then I'll go pro too. It won't be as scary if we're together, right?"_

 _He isn't joking, but she still chuckles. "You? You wouldn't resist there a day, Pikachu," she laughs, yanking herself free from his grip. Even so, she walks closer to him on the way back, and when he links their hands, she doesn't object._

* * *

"So he's the reason for the sudden change of heart?" Momo says as she softly nudges Kyouka's shoulder with her drink.

Kyouka takes it, removes the lid, inhales the caramel scent of the topping and chortles at the musical note drawn on top. "So he told you."

"You've never mentioned it." It's not an accusation, and the fact that Kyouka knows is reflected in the way she nods and sips her drink. It's a question that can be left as an affirmation if she doesn't feel like answering.

"Talking about it would have made it feel real. You know I suck at feelings, Yaomomo."

"He's a music Major, you know?"

Kyouka chokes on her drink. "That idiot," she mumbles in between coughs.

"Have you summoned me?" Kaminari smiles, and Kyouka's eyes go wide for a second, but she still can't stop the fit of coughs. "Shouto said he'll cover for me. Can I get just 5 minutes?" he gives Momo a pleading look, akin to the one he gave Shouto just a while ago.

She nods. The shop is quiet anyway, and they need their intimacy. She gets up and dusts her skirt. "I'll be at the counter," she informs them, and turns the corner while ignoring her friend's look - Kyouka must be glaring at her, she can feel it.

Momo finds Shouto, blue apron tied over his shirt, doing the dishes. "You needn't do that. The shop isn't very busy now."

"Are they okay?" he asks, giving her a plate to place in the drier as she joins him next to the sink.

Music reaches their ears- it's Cliffs of Dover, the one song Momo knows Jirou sings whenever something's bugging her, claiming the complex guitar solo takes her mind off everything else. The sound of another guitar soon joins hers, in perfect synchronization, and Momo smiles.

"They'll be alright."

* * *

Hey guys!  
This update is long overdue but hey, almost 5k?! Please forgive me *makes Kirishima puppy dog eyes*.

Anyhow, many of you have noticed music is a big thing in A Cup of Magic, and Kaminari and Jirou are both music majors, so I figured I'd give you a playlist! This is what Kaminari played in the shop on his first day as a barista (on spotify): Kaminari's Playlist

Finally, the KamiJirou is here! Next chapter will mostly be dedicated to them too, and Todomomo will bond over their friends' dorky romance lol. Also, Deku will make an appearance because he's both a great friend and boyfriend! I know I took long with this chapter, July was an awfully full and quite messy month for me and my family. My grandfather was in the hospital (he's out now and he's fine, no worries) as was grandmother, so writing wasn't really my strong point.  
Aaaaanyhow, this is here now and we're all fine and healthy so I'll try my best to get chapter 11 out by the end of the month! No promises though:) Hopefully you enjoyed this (and finally there were coffee shop themed discussions lol. Introducing Kaminari was the break I was waiting for to talk about tea and coffee types and I still have many fun facts to share!)  
Until next time with a cup of Energy Refill, lovely readers~


	11. Chapter 10

**AN:** In which Kaminari discovers what it takes to make people smile, Jirou ponders on the beauty of the past and Shouto acknowledges Momo is special.

Hello!

I'm not dead and I'm here to bring you more A Cup of Magic and more music recs! In order, the musical pieces here were:  
1\. Hail Rain or Sunshine (the Script)  
2\. Luck - American Authors  
3\. Pride - American Authors  
4\. Go Big or Go Home - American Authors  
5\. Rock the World - The Script  
6\. Fluorescent Adolescent - Arctic Monkeys  
7\. Morgenstimmung - Edvard Grieg  
Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 11. Neverland and Unnamed Feelings**

* * *

It's the rainy season alright, Kaminari notices as he drapes the apron over his hoodie, splotched with dots of more intense yellow where his umbrella couldn't prevent the rain from whipping him mercilessly. Even so, he can't bring himself to feel gloomy - not after his fateful encounter from yesterday - and he blasts upbeat songs of Fun through the cafe, singing along to the lyrics.

Kirishima isn't here yet, so Kaminari goes about what he was taught is the "morning routine" by himself. Granted, without Kirishima's ripped body, it takes him twice as long to bring in the coffee and milk and stock them into the neatly labeled cupboards, but Sato rewards him with fresh brownies, steaming hot right out of the oven, which go down incredibly well with the warm cup of milk Sugarman places right under his nose.

"This tastes so good!" Kaminari says as he licks away the milk whiskers. It was too early for him to realize how hungry he was when he left his dorm, but now that the mouth-watering smell wafts into his nose, luring him into the kitchen, he notices just how loud his stomach was actually grumbling.

Apparently, Sugarman takes note of this as well, because he cuts another slice for the new employee. Kaminari doesn't wait for approval to eat it before gulping half of his brownie down in one swift bite. Sugarman places an apple next to the plate where only black crumbles reside - a reminder of a soldier fallen in a war with Kaminari's mouth and very eager stomach - it was a blitzkrieg, really.

"You should maintain a healthy lifestyle," Sugarman notes, pointing to the apple and ushering Kaminari to eat his fruit as if he's a picky child. "Also, the reason that tasted so good is because the milk wasn't bought from the supermarket, but brought from the village by my parents."

Kaminari's mouth shapes into an O, and he's about to ask if Sato actually moved into the city just to become a baker when the door swings open and Ashido runs in, gasping as if she's out of air and resting her hands on her knees.

"Sorry guys!" she says, still panting when Kaminari jumps over the counter to take her umbrella. She's drenched from head to toe, her stockings covered in mud and her shorts are dripping as if they were freshly taken out of the washing machine. Her hair isn't much better off, frizzy and curling even worse than usual due to the high humidity, sticking out in all the wrong places.

"What happened?" Sato asks as he hands her a towel, which the girl gratefully takes and rubs over her hair. The static makes it even more of a mess than before, it that's possible, but Kaminari is much more concerned with the way her body trembles.

"Mina?" Sato gently inquires agai, prodding her to peel off the dripping jacket and offering her his. It's at least three sizes too big, and Ashido is engulfed by it, swallowed whole except for the head of messy pink bangs that pokes out of the fluffy collar, but she doesn't seem bothered as she slumps down on a stool by the counter.

"Jerks should be banned from driving is what happened," she huffs, gratefully curling her fingers around the rim of the milk mug Kaminari offers her. Much unlike him, she doesn't bother wiping off the whiskers after greedily chucking down the warm beverage, but she does sound less angry when she says, "The driving licence should have a section reserved for jerkness levels."

Kaminari opens his mouth to interrupt her, because she is honestly making no sense, but Sugarman's hand on his shoulder stops him, and the look in his eyes tell him is better to let Ashido pour out her soul.

"So I woke up at insane o'clock 'cause Kirishima has his Physical Examination today, and I'm an amazing friend and promised to fill in for him at work, right?" The men nodded under her look, dripping with annoyance. "So there I was, already running late because it's the rainy season and _of course_ the trains have to be overly crowded and delayed, but could my luck stop there? Noooo," she draws out, slapping her hands on the counter and making Kaminari jerk at the loud sound. "This asshole just _has_ to drive past me, and splash not a wave, but a _taifoon_ of muddy water on me, and then speed up ahead as if it was a hit and run!"

She shoots up for dramatic effect and sighs deeply as she lets herself fall back down. "That felt so good!" she exhales, letting her head drop on the counter, the anger thawing out of her as Sugarman and Kaminari each pat one of her shoulders, frustration replaced by mellow words.

"Got it all out of your system?" Sugarman chuckles, rubbing the towel on her hair one more time for good measure as she lets out another sigh.

It's a very sudden change of mood, but Kaminari guesses he still has to become acquainted with the quirks of everyone at the coffee shop, and can't help the grin that blooms on his face as he says, "I know _exactly_ what you need."

Ashido perks up when the music in the shop changes, and with it, so does the gloomy atmosphere that tiptoed in behind Ashido. She blinks as Kaminari sings along to the first verse, grabbing the mop to erase the muddy trail the pink haired left behind and, with it, the memory of her bad day.

Kaminari can't keep the smile out of his voice when she jumps down the stool and shrugs the coat off, walking behind the counter and tying the apron over her waist just as the lyrics sing _Can we start this shift?_ She even draws a smile when he clicks his heels, and salutes Sato as he retreats to the kitchens.

When the refrain kicks in, Ashido twirls in the lockers' room and emerges with the plan for today's table numbering, stomping her feet to the beat as she pins it to the wall. Kaminari is clapping along to _Yeah, we're_ _all living the good life/ Whether it's hail rain or it's sunshine,_ and he breaks into a beam when Ashido claps along and picks up the milk cartoons, helping him store them away.

The two of them empty the box by the time the refrain picks up again, and when the _Come on!_ Blasts through the speakers, Kaminari takes her hand and spins her around, clapping along to the beat. A laugh bubbles out of Ashido as she skids into the kitchen and makes Sato spin around with her, stealing two cupcakes in the process and sharing her treasure with Kaminari.

They finish off the song with a bam, finger gunning each other at the last _hey_ , and Sugarman breaks into a heartfelt laugh when they wink at him. Ashido herself is beaming, a wide grin that makes it seem her stockings are sparkling clean instead of wet and dribbling with specks of mud, and when she breathes, "That was _awesome!_ Play it again!" Kaminari feels like he found it.

He found the secret behind the magic of making people smile.

Jirou hates the rain - it makes her hair frizzy and her hands freeze on the handle of her umbrella, but the worst of it is actually in the way stormy weather makes people huddle inside, thus leading to overcrowded places, thus making Jirou feel like she's suffocating.

The irony is, she actually feels oddly comfortable getting lost among people, going unnoticed in the mass that swallows her whole, being just one thread in an intricate pattern that waves billions of threads together. What she hates is being the most colourful thread and feeling everyone's judging eyes on her.

"Are you sure?" Momo asks, casting a sideways glance at Jirou as they tiptoe their way through the maze of puddles the streets have become. She's trying not to sound worried, but Jirou has known her best friends for years, and she can read the tick in the line of her jaw.

"Yeah," she breathes. She's not lying per se - she does need to practice, and having the customers in the cafe cock they heads at her questioningly is far better than having all the other students whisper at every tiny mess up. The lingering doubt in Momo's eyes tells her that's not all her friend frets.

Her sharp inhale is muted by the pouring rain. "I can't avoid him forever. I'm an adult, and my feelings for him are in the past." Momo doesn't say anything else as she jumps over a puddle and pushes the door to the coffee shop open, but Jirou knows her words weren't persuasive enough to even convince her of their truth.

Jirou is greeted by the smell of freshly grounded coffee and baked dough and the chatter of customers. Her ears immediately pick up on the song - it's American Authors, and she knows only one person who would blast _Luck_ in a cafe and hum along.

Her eyes are drawn to the electric smile first, and she feels her heart lurch in her chest when she dares meet the sunny eyes of its owner. She told Momo she used to have a crush on him in high school, but that she's dated and broke up since, realizing her only true love is her guitar. But when his eyes catch hers and the golden rim sparkles like he just discovered a treasure, when his smile morphs into a mirror of fondness and pins her heels to the floor before returning his attention to his customer, she wonders if she's actually a huge liar.

She doesn't know when she suddenly got at the front of the line. All she knows is that his face is much closer than she was prepared for, and that his gaze doesn't falter when he smiles, unaware of the terrible things it does to her insides.

She clears her throat and says, "A caramel cappuccino. Grande."

He seems to ponder her order before finally picking up a cup and bobbing his head along to the song - when did it change to _Pride_? - as he jots down the order. "I ain't never giving up, I ain't never ever, I ain't never ever giving up my pride," he hums along, his voice as smooth and shiver-causing as ever.

The words leave her mouth before she can stop her fingers from flicking and her index from tapping the rhythm on the counter. "I ain't never letting go, I ain't never ever, I ain't never ever gonna sell my soul."

Kaminari jerks his head as her words easily leave her lips, but he doesn't say anything, despite his wide eyes. Jirou can't bring herself to stop him when he keeps on singing the refrain, and she feels the smile that threatens to tug at her lips as the words leave her throat, and a weight lifts off her body. For how long have they been stuck there? For how long has _she_ been stuck?

"Like a fish out of water/ Do I belong here?"

Kaminari is positively beaming as his voice laces with hers, overlapping without dominating hers, and she wonders how they can still fit after all these years. When the words "This is me, who I am" linger between them, JIrou can't help it anymore. She tips her head back and laughs, honest to God laughs, disregarding any looks that may be glued on the two of them and allowing herself to return to the dusty classroom they proudly called their "studio".

"American Authors? Really?" she quirks her eyebrows, her shoulders still shaking with laughter.

Kaminari rubs the back of his neck but only answers, "I missed your voice."

Jirou crinkles her nose and ignores the warmth that envelopes her. "I'm rusty. I haven't sung in so long!" The song changes to _Go Big or Go Home_ and she plants a hand on her hip, "And unless you play rock, I probably won't sing ever again."

Kaminari chuckles at that, and the sound is much warmer than it has any right to be. The playful wink and conspiratorial whisper, "You know you actually like it" are much more natural than they should be, too, and Jirou pokes him when she realizes how close to bumping their noses are.

"Whatever. Just get me my caffeine before I start this jamming session, Pikachu," she says, raising her guitar case and skipping towards the amplifiers. She's just hurrying because she has to master _Another One Bites the Dust_ until Monday, and her thundering heartbeat has nothing to do with Kaminari's proximity and earnest gaze or with the memories that flood her mind.

Definitely not.

" _We didn't listen when they said it can't be done/ We're on a mission to prove everybody wrong."_

 _Jirou picks up where he stopped his strumming, "We had a vision, now we've risen above everyone/ We didn't listen when they said it can't be done." She looks up at his sparkling eyes and says, "Really? The Script?"_

" _It fits us," he answers without any trace of embarrassment. "We're gonna rock the world, Jirou."_

 _Kaminari is so simple: he says what he thinks and never says what he doesn't mean. That is Kaminari Denki, and that's perhaps why these stupidly calm and eventless afternoons became Jirou's favourite time of the day. She used to fear others' company, but there's something about Kaminari, usually boisterous and painfully loud Kaminari, that puts her at ease._

 _With her, in this otherwise empty improvised studio, where he has no one to impress and only plain Jirou by his side, his usually sparkly demeanour dims until he only seems to emit a soft light that bathes them, softening his features as he lays his soul and dreams bare in front of Jirou. No matter how guarded she is, she can only listen to the enchanting sound his chords make and accompany him, letting music speak when she can't._

" _If you wanna rock," she snaps out of her thoughts, "then do it more like this." She starts playing a song he immediately recognizes, but lets her sing the first lyrics regardless, "You used to get it in your fishnets/ Now you only get it in your night dress."_

" _Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness/ Landed in a very common crisis."_

Jirou shakes her head as she plugs in her guitar and hums, " _Nothing seems as pretty as the past though._ Arctic Monkeys sure got that one right."

Momo can't pretend not to see the look Kaminari gives Jirou, the way his entire being seems to relax when her best friend touches the chords, and the inkling that he can see the world Jirou is transported to when becoming one with music blooms in her mind.

She suddenly feels her hand being caught in a bigger one, and her eyes snap to attention as Shouto tilts his head just barely, forcing her eyes to meet his. It's also then that she realizes she was mechanically cleaning the tables and starting wiping over his papers. Utterly embarrassed, Momo slips her limp hand out of his and bows her head.

"What happened?" he asks, pulling out the chair next to his for Momo to sit. She casts a glance towards the calm shop, and Sato gives her a thumbs up upon meeting her eyes, proceeding to gently chop Kaminari's head and drag him back to the sink.

Momo gratefully takes her seat, smiling tiredly, "I'm just worried, I suppose."

Shouto's eyes dart to the counter, and he muses, "Is this about your friend?"

Momo nods. "She says her voice sounds weird and never sings in public, but Kaminari effortlessly made her sing along today."

Shouto's eyes are back on hers, his brows raised in slight confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Momo bites her lower lip. She doesn't know why she's telling Shouto all of this, but an irrational part of her trusts him despite knowing him for barely three weeks, and there's something inherently soothing about his mismatched eyes and hair, about the warmth of his hand when he held hers and his deep voice, something that belongs to a pocket of quiet and timelessness.

"It is," she admits, cushioning her cheek on her palm. "But Kyouka is like a tortoise, you know? If you scare her, she retracts back into her shell and needs a lot of prodding to come back out again. And well, you heard his story yesterday."

"In other words, you're scared he hurt her? And that he may do it again?"

"Kyouka was awfully vague about their past," Momo muses, feeling more and more like an overprotective mother hen.

She expects the blunt Shouto to say as much, but instead, he says, "People change, and the most painful experiences shape their characters the most." His voice is laced with something Momo can't pinpoint, but she can tell it's very personal. "All you can do is be by her side, I think."

She doesn't answer, because there's nothing to say. He's right, of course, but Momo gets the impression he isn't only talking about Kyouka here, so she just nods and holds his gaze, searching for clues in his face. There's something lurking behind his eyes, cogs turning and connecting in a way Momo doesn't even begin to comprehend, but she doesn't want to take this machine apart. There's beauty in embracing the mystery.

There should be no surprise that Shouto's words take her by surprise, yet Momo still jolts. "I've never heard you playing the piano." Her blank expression must be self explanatory, because Shouto continues, "You said you could, right?"

"Yes," she answers, still unsure where this is going.

"Could I listen to you?"

"You really needn't go through all the trouble, Shouto."

Momo is still hunched over the pile of bills, counting the money in the cashier, her ponytail spilling over her forehead as she murmurs numbers to herself. Shouto wipes his brow as he brings the broom to the back of the shop and stops for a moment just to take her in. "It's fine," he answers, suppressing the urge to poke the spiky ends of her ponytail.

He's actually incredibly selfish in his reasoning, sticking around because she promised to play something for him. Ever since she told him he's like classical music, Shouto had wondered what that meant to her - wondered how she plays the piano, if her shoulders tremble along with the music, if she leans over the keys with every shift in the melody.

He hears her loosen a long breath - it never feels like Momo sighs, because her exhales are soft, and they leave her smiling rather than frowning. It's not a humph of stress, but rather, it's letting all of her emotions spill in one smooth, wordless gesture, and in the empty cafe, the walls reverberate with her breathing, like a living organism connected to her.

"Good work," he tells her, earning a small smile as she gets up.

"Likewise. I'm in your debt for the constant help," she jokes, making for the piano in the corner. "This doesn't even begin to make up for it, but what would you like me to play, Shouto?"

His answer is in the lack thereof. "Whatever you want."

She hums pensively as she sits down, running her fingers over the wooden surface gingerly. Then, with one swift movement, she pulls the clap to reveal the keys, and presses her fingers over them, tasting the sound.

She gives him no warning before she begins, and Shouto immediately recognizes Morgenstimmung. It erupts from the tips of her fingers, and she sways her head ever so gently to the soothing rhythm, as if she's the center of a spiral of notes that engulf her. Her hands dance along the keyboard, and Shouto has the feeling she barely touches a white key before transitioning to the next, like the music is leading her and not the other way around.

There's something personal about the way Momo plays, the way she keeps her back arched straight and barely watches the keys, the way she seems to be in the middle of a forest that is waking up and has the capacity to drag her with him. Shouto doesn't know if it's part of the magic of the shop, but he wouldn't be surprised if a tiny fairy creaked a tea drawer open and peeked out of it, and if Peter Pan declared this place his Neverland, he wouldn't really be able to object to it.

Momo is graceful - no, she's _grace_ \- and the smile that blooms across her lips has Shouto dazed, because it certainly doesn't belong to the humanly realm. And it's in the middle of the night, while playing a song to wake up nature, that Shouto feels something wake up in _himself_.

With the last notes, Momo finally opens her eyes, a fond look etched into the pools of obsidian. Even when she's done, she keeps her hand on the keys, as if she's in a spell not to be broken, and raises her head to meet his eyes softly. There's that spark again, twinkling like starlight, and Shouto doesn't know where all the words were buried, but doesn't make any attempt to dig for them, either. He wouldn't be able to describe this feeling even if he had a dictionary at his disposition.

Eventually, she laughs softly and says, "Not really a song to play at night, huh?"

Shouto shakes his head and finds himself saying, "I think it worked."

There's something in his chest he can't name, but when Momo giggles at his words, the sound is so warm that whatever is in him blooms. He finds the feeling to be pleasant, and he offers to walk Momo home.

* * *

AN: Hello again!

I know it's been a long time, but I was fairly busy with my two other todomomo fics (I post on ao3 more, mostly because I'm allowed to have a coauthor there lol) and didn't want to rush this one. I have the next 5 chapters roughly outlined, but thanks to some of you lovely ones, who kept asking me about a cup of magic updates, I finally took the time to write this and. Dear God. I missed this fic so much!  
As for this chapter... I know it's not long, but it's important for two big reasons: one, I love character interactions and two, Kamijirou and Todomomo need time to figure out where they stand. Shouto is slowly getting there, and as for everyone's favourite Pikachu and purplehead, they have some things to work out... hehe:)  
I'll try to update soon again, at least with a side story. Tell me whose sidestory you're interested in seeing, and till next time, with a cup of hot milk~


	12. Chapter 10,5

**AN:** Set one year before A Cup of Magic starts. This is the reason Todoroki was a regular:)

I decided to make this special chapter a TodoMomo one, since TodoMomo Christmas month starts today! (check out the event on tumblr~)

* * *

 **10.5. A Trip Back in Time**

* * *

It started snowing all of a sudden - at first softly, like the opening to a waltz, and much like a Strauss melody, it quickly picked up, snowflakes sticking together to form thick feathers that covered the ground, stubbornly resisting under the crunch of Shouto's boots. He shrugs the hood of his coat over his head, shuddering when the snow that sneaked in there teases his hair and melts against his warmth.

Even with his hood pulled so low it obstructs most of his view and his scarf raised over his mouth, burying even the tip of his nose in a bundle of wool Fuyumi knitted into what she calls a scarf - but is mostly a clumsily strung together pattern Shouto loves nonetheless - he feels the cold seeping into his every bone.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Shouto sees the blinking lights of the bus lazily departing from the station, and he grits out a quiet curse. With the last bus of the night gone, he'll have to take a cab - what a joke. As if nature resonates with Shouto, the wind picks up and a wave of snow slams into his coat, a couple of flakes attaching themselves to his buttons. With this blizzard, there's no way he'll get a cab in due time, and the clock is ticking to his freezing to death.

Shielding himself from the wind, Shouto turns his head to the right, avoiding another merciless gust of wind, and that's when he sees it. Despite the late hour and terrible weather, a soft light twinkles in the local coffee shop, and Shouto finds himself blessing the inventor of the graveyard shift for saving his quite literally frozen ass.

Just as he makes it to the door, however, he notices the "Closed" sign and realizes how big of a fool he was - when did Lady Luck ever take his side? Still, he attempts to open the door, only to find it locked and come to grips with his predicament. He can't feel his numbening fingers when he reaches into the pocket of his coat for his phone and tries calling for a cab.

Before the line goes through, there's the rattle of a door and a girl dressed only in a sweater and with her hair pulled into a high ponytail talks over the roaring wind, "Hey! Come inside!"

He doesn't question her _or_ whatever Gods saw his struggle - the line is busy, of course - and thankfully shuffles in after her, into the warm coffee shop smelling like… well, coffee, Shouto supposes. His nose is frozen and starting to water now that warmth tickles his skin again, so he can't really pick up any distinct fragrances in the air, aside from the distinct scent of boiling hot heaters.

"It's frigid!" the girl says, rubbing her arms with her hands. "You must be freezing! Ah, I had a blanket around here somewhere - just sit down and take off your jacket, I'll be right back!"

And so Shouto does, slumping on a plush chair in the corner, abandoning his coat on the closest heating unit. A few moments later, the girl emerges with a fluffy blanket in her arms and drapes it over Shouto, bundling him up. "This is all I have, but I hope it warms you up a little. I'll get you something hot to drink, so stay here."

Just like that, she's back on her feet and slides behind the bar, taking out two huge mugs - they almost look like soup bowls - and several ingredients. From his spot, Shouto can see her ponytail bouncing as she brings the water to a simmer in a saucepan and proceeds to whisk in what appears to be cocoa powder.

He takes a moment to look around, and notices there are fairy lights lining the counter and the jars his barista is expertly skirting around. The light they're emitting is soft, adding to the whimsical atmosphere of the winter season - save for nature's attempt at killing him, of course.

His eyes are glued to the window, pondering ways to get to his apartment, when the girl places the steaming mug in front of him and sits down on the other side of the table, holding a cup of her own. "It's beautiful when you look at it from inside, isn't it?" she says, cupping the mug in between her porcelain white hands - they're almost as white as Shouto's hair.

He only nods in response, not particularly fond of small talk or engaging in a conversation with this stranger. Still, she was kind enough not to let him freeze to death, so he says, "Thanks."

The smile she gives him is so genuine it sets Shouto off. "You're welcome! This is no time to catch a cold, with the incoming exams."

"It's also no time to be working late night shifts," he strikes back.

She only gives him a feeble laugh and sips her beverage quietly, watching the erratic dance of snowflakes beyond the pocket of warmth they're in. Shouto raises the cup to his mouth, chocolate scented steam tickling his lips and thawing nose. The taste is beyond his expectations: creamy and smooth as velvet, it's not so thick you'd choke on it but not as thin as the instant one you can pick up off any supermarket shelf, either. Hints of cinnamon and whipped cream make Shouto crave more, and before he knows it, he's emptied half of the ridiculously large mug.

The barista is smiling to herself at something only she can see in the blizzard outside, like she found a core of beauty in the chaos, and Shouto doesn't want to break her out of the daze. For whatever reason, it doesn't feel like she's invading his personal space - despite the physical proximity, she feels far away, in a world Shouto can't even begin to comprehend, one with cloudless skies and beauty in the dirt.

"It feels magical, doesn't it? For there to be a tumult so close to the calm," she whispers into the rim of her mug.

The line hits Shouto, perhaps too close to home - it's not just the weather, but also his stormy past and the thoughts he can't untangle that coexist with the calm of this quaint coffee shop and the ebony-haired barista. Maybe he wouldn't call such a cohabitation _magical_ as much as _eerie_ , but her words still reverberate in the air, and Shouto finds himself staring at the fine lines that define her face, trying to pick her apart.

When she snaps out of her trance and meets his gaze, a coy smile is etched on her face, and Shouto feels surprisingly comfortable about saying, "They balance each other out."

She taps her finger on her cup rhythmically. "I think they actually coin each other until they become the same."

Maybe it's that particular line, or the knowing look in her obsidian eyes, or her smile as she waves at him when he gets into a cab, but Shouto finds himself coming to the cafe every day from there on out, waiting for the nameless ponytailed barista to explain her words. It isn't until one year later that he sees her again, and not until a few weeks later, when she plays the piano for him, that he discovers he's falling in love with her.

* * *

AN: Hello!

I really didn't think I'd reveal this so soon, but it fit with the ending of the last chapter and December upon us! The next chapter returns with the current timeline and it's titled "A Dash of Fun to Season the Party" so look forward to that~


	13. Chapter 11

AN: Shouto and Jirou come to their own realizations. (The song Momo is humming is Dancing in the Rain because I'm a sap, and the songs in the kmjr segments are: Rock to My Roll (Anarbor); Mambo No.5; Party in the USA (Miley Cyrus) and Fire Escape (Andrew McMahon). Enjoy!)

* * *

 **11\. A Dash of Fun to Season the Party**

* * *

The clack of her heels against the wet cement is almost melodious, and Shouto notices that she has the same skip to her step even when she isn't serving customers. The streetlamps strewn on the alley that leads to her apartment shed light over a mostly empty street, their yellow glow reflected in the ponds that line the pavement and ripple with the occasional drop of water that dribbles down a damp roof.

"You really didn't have to do this," Momo says as they take a right, looking at him with curious amusement.

"I know." And he _does_ know. He didn't have to walk her all the way home, or to get his shoes wet jumping in puddles with her - it was really childish, but her clear laughter was enough of an incentive anyway - so the only answer he is left with is, "I wanted to." Her heels stop their rhythmical tapping for a split second, just enough for Shouto to add, "I couldn't let a friend walk back alone."

Momo blinks, but her confusion soon morphs into one of those smiles Shouto keeps replaying in his mind whenever he thinks of her, but can never quite capture the right place of her dimples or the number of creases along the corners of her eyes. Satisfied with his answer, she focuses on the road again, humming lowly - it's a song Shouto can't recognize, but she seems so entranced by it that he doesn't dare break her daze.

The other reason why Shouto walked her back is because he feels as if, as soon as they leave _A Cup of Magic_ , time turns against them, flying by even faster to make up for its boundless patience inside the coffee shop. He decides to keep that hint of selfishness to himself.

Soon - too soon - Momo stops in front of an apartment complex. "We're here," she muses, but lingers for a heartbeat before digging into her purse for the keys. For how organised she is, it takes her quite a bit to fish them out, but Shouto doesn't mind it. There's something fascinating about the halo of light around her dark hair that seems ripped out of the night.

When she finally finds her keys, she takes a step towards the stairs, but twirls around to say, "You're friends with Kaminari-san, right?"

Shouto isn't sure if _friends_ is the right word - he doesn't _dislike_ the boisterous barista, however, and that must count for something. "Yes," he answers, his voice hanging in a question.

"Wonderful!" Momo claps her hands. "Then would you like to come by the shop tomorrow? We always hold a party for our newcomers, but Ochako has been sick up to now. She's feeling better though, so she'll be back tomorrow!"

A month ago, Shouto wouldn't have fancied such an outing - would even have called it a waste of time. But now, he remembers the warm hug Uraraka pulled him into when she called him _family_ , the pleasant time he spent with Sato in the kitchen, creating both the best and the worst mousse he's ever subjected his taste buds to, and the fistbumps Kaminari always greets him with.

When he sees Momo's smile, he knows his decision is already taken.

"Sure," he concedes, watching as her face brightens even more.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then! Good night, Shouto!"

"Yeah," he mutters, raising a hand to mirror the small wave she gives him. "Good night!"

He sticks around until the sound of her boots stalking against the stairs dies out, and loosens a breath he didn't know he was holding in. As soon as her fragrance dissipates into the chilly November air, however, Shouto feels a wet drop on his right cheek, and then another on his hand. The familiar pitter-patter of rain pads against the barely dry pavement, and Shouto tips back his head with a tired sigh.

It's been like this ever since their first meeting - Momo brings calm with herself wherever she goes, but as soon as the last hints of her presence melt away, chaos installs itself comfortably in the hole she leaves behind. Within a few seconds, Shouto's hair is damp beyond salvation, and he decides he'll just walk home, trusting his history of not catching colds to save him again.

And maybe that's how he would have made it home, if not for frenetic steps chasing him and someone calling his name. "Thank God I catched up with you!" Momo pants a bit, holding out an umbrella that Shouto gratefully accepts.

"How did you-" he tries, but she can probably read his mind by this point.

"I couldn't let a friend walk home in the rain," she says slily, tilting her own umbrella to reveal a gleeful smirk.

Fuyumi calls Shouto's default setting "deadpan with a chance of frown", but right now, he finds himself chuckling at the pride with which she turns his own words against him. The sound of his low laughter is drown out by the pouring rain, but she must hear it nonetheless, because she practically _beams_ at him.

"Well, my job here is done," she speaks over the downpour, but doesn't shout, because Momo never shouts, not at rude customers, nor at mishaps behind the counter and clearly not at the weather. But Momo _is_ flustered, and that's a look Shouto feels inexplicably drawn to when he knows he's the reason for the soft pink flush covering her cheeks.

In his defense, his hand moves on its own to wrap around her fingers when she twirls around to go. The muddled look she gives him suggests she finds no logical explanation to it. That makes two of them, at least.

Quickly finding his footing again, Shouto says, "Thank you. For the umbrella," he adds after a small pause. _For everything,_ he keeps to himself.

"Of course!" she easily says, taking a step closer again and twisting her hand in his. Shouto almost lets her go, suddenly aware of his every knuckle and the warmth of said palm, of how calloused from wearing plastic gloves in the lab every day it must be, and how rough it is when compared to her gentle fingers. She only flattens her palm against his, however, and squeezes his fingers closer reassuringly.

The part of Shouto that has been subject to years of Fuyumi's cheesy romantic flicks tells him this is the part where the protagonists share a kiss, and he is bewildered at such a thought even crossing his mind. His throat bobs as he swallows, and he watches her starry eyes with mild dread, because he's not sure what she expects him to do.

All he knows is that the weight of her palm is pleasant, perhaps he'd even call it _fitting_ , if he believed in fate and the insanely easy perception of having something destined before one's birth. He doesn't, however, so her hand remains pleasant, and he remains just as clueless about how to proceed.

And then, suddenly, a stroke of genius makes him blurt out, "Could I have your phone number?"

Momo looks entertained by this solution, almost appreciative of the subversion of the "holding hands in the rain" trope, and Shouto counts his giggle as a victory. "Sure," she answers, sliding her phone from the pocket of her jacket without letting go of his hand.

She's the only contact in his phone that Shouto labels using just one word - even Fuyumi-nee and Natsuo-nii have a short Todoroki added next to them - but Momo is just _Momo_ , and no word can fully encapsulate or tag her. He smiles a little when he notices she also writes him down as Shouto, and then they truly bid their goodnights for the last time. His left hand feels cold after she lets go.

Shouto takes his time walking to the subway station, watching the curtain of rain enclosing him as if in a cage, but realizes he's never felt so _free_. Chaos coexists with calm, and in a strange role reversal, Mother Nature is ire while he is perfect balance. Momo would call this magic, but Shouto doesn't believe in magic.

She makes him want to believe.

It's still coming down in buckets when Shouto opens his umbrella - Momo's umbrella - and steps outside the comfort of the bustling subway station, but it feels more like the sky's sigh of relief than shouts of anger. Shouto doesn't remember the last time he just looked at water rolling down tilted rooftops in thick beads and thought that was beautiful, or even smiled at the sight of children jumping from puddle to puddle, wrapped in colourful raincoats and loud giggles.

It's a foreign gesture, but it makes his blood flow quicker, just like the best of Sato's cakes do.

On his way to the coffee shop, Shouto checks on the cat he feeds every day, worrying about her shelter on such days. As he passes by the usual corner, however, he sees a man already crouched in front of a cardboard box, holding an umbrella out for both himself and the cat and scratching her between the ears with a fond look.

Maybe the terrible weather just brings out the best in everyone.

Even before opening the door to _A Cup of Magic_ , Shouto sees Momo's spiky ponytail through the glass door fogged up by the rain and spies her poised posture, even as she's sitting on a barstool, focused on an open notebook resting between her elbows. The melodious clinking of the chimes barely reaches her, and Shouto folds his umbrella quietly, almost afraid that the raindrops he's bringing from the outside could dispel the soothing buzz of the quaint cafe.

Sato emerges from the kitchen wearing his brown apron and wide smile, carrying two trails filled to the brim with steaming cookies that he pours into a jar on the counter. When he catches Shouto's eyes, he raises a quiet hand in salute, and juts a thumb towards the chalkboard sporting the seasonal menu, as if to ask if the usual will do. Shouto nods wordlessly before sliding onto the stool next to Momo's.

Her attention has been stolen by a page of what looks like quotes and cup designs, the end of her mechanical pencil pressed against her front teeth and her brows lowered in a thinking pose. "Red and white?" Shouto asks as his eyes flit to the catalogue of tones and colour schemes she holds close by. She jolts a bit, as if woken from a dream, and her eyes slowly zero in on Shouto. "Isn't that a bit mainstream?"

She blinks as a lazy smile dismisses the frown. "Was that supposed to be a jest?" Her eyes hover over Shouto's hair for a split second, and he just shakes his head bemusedly. "We're brainstorming the newest design for the Christmas month," she explains, pointing to the neat stack of colour coded quotes she has printed out.

"Got any ideas?" he asks, reading some of the suggestions. They're the usual, commercial "Have a Merry Little Christmas" or "Let it Snow!". He feels like he finally understands where the frown stemmed from.

"We left a suggestion box in every shop and even opened one online but…" she trails off, glancing at the pile she has probably sorted through at least a dozen times, given their worn, crinkling corners. "None of them is…"

"Magical," Shouto completes, and she nods wearily. "May I see?" Even before she answers, he pulls the notebook towards himself, flipping through pages upon pages of scribbled notes. It's the first time he actually notices how neat and organised her writing is, and is taken aback by the number of models she's gone through - stripped, spotted, with stars or trees, and even one with cats that Shouto finds himself particularly drawn to.

Reaching the last page, his eyes are pulled by a simple mug that has hte logo drawn on it, and is surrounded by stars and globes hanging by strings. "Momo," he mutters, afraid that louder words might chase away the idea that has just sent shivers down his spine. "I think I got it."

He feels Momo's gaze trained on him, quietly ebbing him on when a soft clink makes them both jolt. Sato props his elbows on the counter and leans in, "What have you got?"

"You can use this model," Shouto points to the one he's been entranced by, "but replace _Magic_ with ellipsis."

"So _A Cup of…_ " Sato's eyebrows point sharply to the bridge of his nose.

"You can complete that with words that describe the cafe and place them on the globes hanging around," Shouto explains, scratching the _Magic_ from the design and writing _Smiles_ in one of the nearby round bubbles.

Momo claps her hands and swiftly wrestles another pen from her pencil case. "And then we can add _Magic_ in a matching cup on the back!" she beams, drawing another identical shape with only a few lines, brimming with excitement as her hair spills from its place behind her ear. "And we can use the responses from all the customers to fill the globes!"

"That's great!" Sato agrees with a nod, clapping Shouto's shoulder. "This calls for a piece of the finest _High-class Vanilla_ ," he grins widely before disappearing into the kitchen to obtain the promised treat, and Momo beams at Shouto from ear to ear.

"Thank you," she says, and Shouto knows that she means it. Momo always means it.

"Anytime," he shrugs, cutting the pile of printed flyers in two and taking a stack for himself, sorting through the responses to the online survey as his physics assignments lie forgotten in the bag slung over the backrest of his chair.

Jirou has a faint feeling that the sudden song change that just so happens to overlap with her entering the cafe _and_ with Kaminari whistling along to the _much too familiar_ tune is not just a suspicious chain of coincidences, but the first few lyrics cut off her snarky remark. Jirou takes off her headphones to make sure she isn't just imagining things.

Of course, life is not so convenient that this is all one big and shitty product of her imagination, which leaves a frizzy haired Jirou absolutely baffled, frozen on her way to the counter, listening to her _secretly_ favourite lovesong. Of course no one else in the coffee shop knows about this, so Jirou has no reason to feel as embarrassed as she does.

And then Kaminari has the audacity to _wink_ at her, just to remind her that he is a ball of walking and talking _cringe_ that just so happens to _know_ she is not the queen of rock she prides herself to be, and Jirou is suddenly not feeling flustered anymore. Oh no, she's pissed off by this antrophosized Pikachu just walking back into her life to make her sing pop trash and listen to _Rock to My Roll_ all over again like he never broke her heart, and she's _had_ it.

But of course that's not _it,_ because Lady Luck and Jirou had a terrible fallout some years ago and now they're just out to get each other at every possible turn. This time it's Lady Luck's point, because Kaminari just _has_ to do the worst possible thing.

He sings along.

He sings along to _You are the rhythm to my rhyme/ And you are my radio/ Turn you up when I feel low/ You are the soundtrack to all I know_ , while gazing at Jirou and using the cup he's holding as a fake microphone. When the chorus kicks in, he holds the impromptu sound amplifier to her mouth as an invite.

For the entirety of the chorus, Jirou blankly stares at the blond, a myriad of conflicting emotions passing through her without stopping to even give Jirou a _chance_ at picking them apart. She knows there's annoyance, and anger, and something that she should probably name longing but decides to call stupidity, and it all culminates in her letting out a wheeze.

Roaring laughter bubbles out of her for no apparent reason, and Jirou doubles over under Kaminari's incredulous - and slightly concerned - eyes, but she can't grab the reins over her cackling. The song keeps playing, and Jirou peeks at Kaminari through the curtain of hair that's now cascading over her eyes. The fondness she finds in the melted gold makes her breath catch, but she keeps laughing to ensure the confidentiality of her blush.

"You okay there?" Kaminari asks when she straightens up.

Jirou cocks her head, slamming her hand on the counter and giving him a pointed look. It makes her feel in charge again. "Really? _Rock to My Roll?_ How cheesy _can_ you get, Pikachu?"

He grins, "You can't fool me, Jirou. You actually like it!"

She just turns around, calling, "Grande cappuccino with caramel topping" over her shoulder, but she knows it's just an act to get away from that infectious smile she can never get quite enough of.

"Thank you again, Kyouka," Momo says as she pops the CD in and ushers everybody - including Jirou - behind the counter. "I knew I could count on you!"

"I'm just here to make fun of his pop music," Jirou stresses as she reluctantly ducks behind the bar, crushed between a beaming Momo and an Ashido that wriggles her eyebrows to the point where Jirou wonders if she can get muscular pain because of it.

She wants to spit out a snarky remark, but Ashido covers her mouth with perfectly manicured fingers upon hearing the creaking of the lockers door. Soon enough, Kaminari's voice reverberates closer and closer to them, "I'm done. Good work - hey, where's everyone?" His footsteps stop before the counter and Momo's fingers slowly curls into her palm as the countdown reaches its end-

"SURPRISE!" they collectively shout, jumping from behind the counter like a finely tuned spring toy. Kaminari's eyes widen and shift to the ceiling when Kirishima flips the light switch on, replacing the usual warm hues of the coffee shop by Ashido's disco ball, which bathes his blond hair in pink and blue squares.

"What-"

"Welcome to the family, Kaminari-san!" Momo shuffles past her coworkers to stand before him and give him a genuine smile. "Now you're officially an _A Cup of Magic_ employee, and that calls for a proper celebration."

He gapes for words, and Jirou recognizes the way he chews on the inside of his cheek. This is awkward Kaminari, unused to being appreciated or praised, this is him trying to keep in tears of joy, and that is precisely why he wraps his arms around Momo and pulls her in a hug. Jirou can't quite hear it, but she's sure he mutters, "Thank you" in her ear.

It only takes Ashido and Uraraka jumping over the counter with the warcry, "Group hug!" to pull every innocent soul on the battlefield, including a reluctant Jirou and that half and half boy Momo hangs around lately.

It's probably Uraraka, finally back at work and ready to party, who presses play on the CD-player, and the coffee shop is filled with pop tunes that Jirou really wishes she didn't recognize, which is of course impossible because a) she spent too much time with Kaminari to get out unscathed and b) she compiled the list herself. As any retired soldier does, Jirou considers her part done and perches herself on the counter, watching Kaminari go through Mambo No. 5 effortlessly.

He first spins Momo around, making her chuckle at his over the top moves, and then promptly spins her out of his reach and dubiously close to the half and half boy that she most definitely has a crush on given her furious blush when she suddenly loses her grace and almost stumbles into his arms - not that Jirou's judging. Kaminari then proceeds to match his moves to Ashido's wild tempo, and surprisingly for everyone but Jirou, succeeds, only to just as deftly switch to teaching Uraraka how to dance along this classic.

Jirou doesn't even try to pretend her eyes aren't following him - she's a terrible liar, after all. This is the same goofy Kaminari that she enjoyed hanging out with, the same guy who made everything seem easy, and most definitely the guy Jirou could never quite get over. She's also infinitely aware that she was too stupid to tell him how deep her feelings ran - that maybe she only realised she _truly_ liked him when it was already too late.

Miley Cyrus kicks in, and she makes a point to fake gag at the beat of _Party in the USA_ when Kaminari catches her eyes. Ignoring her feigned disgust, he yells, "Who even made this playlist? All my favourites are here!"

Uraraka and Ashido both jab a finger in Jirou's direction, effectively breaching at least three rules of the broship code, and Jirou gives them the death glare when Kaminari starts strolling towards her - without stopping that weird Elvis-hips-swaying act he has going on, of course. Jirou doesn't know why she expected anything more.

When he stops in front of her - if the little pirouette he does can even be categorized as such - she rolls her eyes and bats the outstretched hand away. "Dream on, Pikachu," she snorts.

"Come on, Jirou," he whines, catching her other hand and giving her one of the trademark electrifying smiles as she tugs her on the so-called dancefloor. "It's my party!"

She rolls her eyes again, wondering if they'll get stuck at the back of her head, but before she can pretend to give in just because he's a royal pain - and _not_ because the butterflies in her stomach are too much - his hands are on her waist and he's pulling her up, spinning her around once before letting her down gently. It all happens so fast that Jirou's knees almost buckle when she touches the ground, but she can't ignore the warmth he irradiates or his hands linked on the small of her back.

She slaps his shoulder only half playfully, prompting a nervous chuckle out of him. She hates how despite his cheesy grand gestures, she's still tapping her foot to the beat. She hates it even more that Kaminari notices it.

His hands lower slowly, tentatively, from her waist to her hips, just as Jirou slides her arms from around his neck to his chest, padding his shirt like it might burn her. Unbeknownst to her, her body sways to the music, and Kaminari's eyes light up with a smile his lips can't quite muster. Jirou gets it - she herself is afraid that if any muscle in her jaw twitches, she'll wake up and realize this has all been nothing but a dream.

The song changes, but Kaminari doesn't switch partners, and Jirou doesn't stop dancing either. His presence is oddly comforting, and the proximity, strangely not at all unsettling. " _Our big ideas filled empty bars,_ " Kaminari mouths along as he spins Jirou once.

She crashes against his chest just as the song goes, " _You're the reason why I'm still up at down,"_ and feels a small laugh leave her lips when he smiles down at her.

Perhaps having Kaminari greet her with cheesy love songs she secretly adores might not be that bad, after all.

* * *

AN:Hi~

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had a *hard* time not making it TOO sappy, believe me! I absolutely adore the rain scene though, and I'm just super excited because some adorable kmjr scenes are coming up in the next chapter and I'm lowkey dying to write them. Almost every character will get their arc in this story, so I'm excited who you think comes next hehe:)  
Till next time, with a cup of warm tea (beware of the cold!) dear readers~


	14. Chapter 12

AN: Kaminari is getting better of being a barista, Jirou starts being more honest with herself, and Momo and Shouto meet more often outside the shop.

* * *

 **Chapter 12. Their Respective Daily Grinds**

* * *

Jirou isn't particularly fond of coffee shops. They're crowded, and the baristas are often too chatty for their own good - really, all they need to do is pour her lactose-free caffeinated drinks and take her money, so why do they feel the sow in unnecessary words?

A Cup of Magic is different, though. Momo took her there for the first time when they were both ten, and Jirou still recalls the scent of tea and cappuccino that hit her nostrils, as well as the soothing soundtrack punctuated by the clink-clank of the dishes, like it was yesterday. What she remembers the best, however, is the guitar shining in a corner and the excited nod Momo's mom gave her when she strummed the finely attuned strings. Looking back on it now, this may be the moment she fell in love with the liberating feeling of dressing feelings too big for words in music.

Jirou didn't believe in magic - she still doesn't. But she does believe in the charm of this place, in the beam that Momo sported when she handed Jirou her first cup of manually brewed tea and the smile she still offers her along with her drink, and in the soothing tranquility of the quaint shop.

Since then, she's made it a habit to get her daily coffee fix from this shop and steal glances at the polished stage in the corner. The more she grew, the more imposing the stage seemed to her, as if its size was increasing at an even faster rate than Jirou's growth spurt. One day, she vowed to herself, she'll step onto it not only when there are few people in the shop, but when the place is bustling with life - and she'll make each and every pair of eyes look solely at her.

She rips her gaze from the stage as she walks into the shop now, and pulls out her earbuds to hear the sound of the wind chimes greet her. As if pulled by a magnetic force, her eyes land on the dazzling smile that blinds her. She blinks as Kaminari whispers something to Uraraka and the jazzy tune changes to The Click Five, and Jirou snorts as the lyrics tickle her earshell.

 _She's cold and she's cruel/ But she knows what she's doin'/ She pushed me in the pool/ At our last school reunion/ She laughs at my dreams/ But I dream about her laughter/ Strange as it seems/ She's the one I'm after._

"Cringe much?" Jirou says, leaning against the free counter and letting her purse slide down her shoulder with a smirk that masks her flustered surprise.

Kaminari mirrors her stance, tilting his head in what he deems an innocent manner, but only exposes him for the cocky barista he is. "I don't know what you're talking about." His shit-eating grin says otherwise.

Jirou snorts again, fishing for her wallet as she shoots Kaminari an unimpressed face. He only grins sheepishly, adopting his husky, charmer tone that leaves Jirou chortling - and totally not blushing, that's just from the temperature difference, of course. "So, what can I get the pretty lady today?"

"There's no one in the line behind me, Pikachu," Jirou easily replies, pointing at the menu on the wall behind him - mostly so she won't have to meet the evident pride of having made her blush shining in his eyes. "Get me the medium Calm Cappuccino, cinnamon on top, no cream because i need it to be as dark as my soul." She slides him a bill as she quirks an eyebrow. "And make it quick, Pikachu, I have a jamming session with my guitar."

"I'll make it espresso," he winks. Jirou can tell her groan only tugs at his smile, and slaps a hand over her face to hide a blooming simper. He's a lost cause.

As she watches Kaminari prepare her beverage, Jirou adjusts the strap of her guitar case on her shoulder and unwillingly hums along to _Just the Girl_ , wondering how long it's been since she last heard the song. It's not hard to guess, given that only a complete dork like this particular blond barista would ever listen to it. The lyrics make her snicker, especially the _And when she sees it's me/ On her caller ID/ She won't pick up the phone_ , but her simmering laughter is interrupted by the sound of Uraraka giggling.

The pink-cheeked barista is slapping Kaminari's back in between fits of laughter, pointing at the wand he's attempting to draw in the foam with and tipping her head back as more giggles bubble out of her. "You _suck_ ," she eventually manages, wiping away tears from her eyes.

"It's _hard_ to focus. Did you not hear her _laughing?!_ Hell, did you not see her _blushing_?! How am I supposed to-" noticing Uraraka's devilish grin, Kaminari bites back the rest of his words and meets Jirou's grinning face. His expression immediately shifts from amused despair to dead-seriousness and he raises a hand as if to keep her out. "What happens behind the bar stays behind the bar. These are strictly work conversations."

The laugh Jirou had been suppressing wheezes out of her, and she almost bends over at the dejected face the doofus wears. It's endearing, if she were honest with herself. Kaminari sighs, but Jirou can see the shadow of a smile haunting his eyes, especially as he hands out her drink.

The foam is indeed messy, but if she squints, Jirou can see the faint traces of a cinnamon heart. It's both a bit childish and very much cheesy, but her cheeks heat up nonetheless. She only rolls her eyes at him and tries not to bat away the ghosting sensation of his fingers brushing over hers when he gives her the mug.

It's only when Jirou has shrugged off her jacket and sunken into the plush armchair in the far corner of the shop that she sees the heart he drew on her cup in permanent marker and the phone number he scribbled inside. He's _such_ a lost cause.

Thankfully, the steam makes her red face invisible to him - or at least so she hopes.

* * *

Ochako is perhaps as sweet as Sato's cakes, but she sure knows how to tease him. "Just ask her out already," she says as she works around another order and stuffs the cup in Kaminari's hands. "I can tell you she's single."

"And I can tell you she's uninterested," Kaminari sighs, pouring the smoothie in the plastic container and topping it off with ice cubes - he has no idea why anyone would drink this frozen extravaganza with the ever dropping temperatures, but he isn't going to judge them. He is, however, going to give himself a pat on the shoulder - he's been getting better at this whole barista-ing thing.

"You won't know unless you try," Ochako playfully winks, bumping his fist as they deliver what appears to be the final order of the rush hour.

Kaminari's grin is dampened by the reminder that Jirou isn't, indeed, interested in him. "I've asked her out before," he tells his coworker, slumping against the counter. "She snorted and batted me off."

"Maybe she thought it was a joke?"

"I _serenaded_ her, Ochako!"

"You serenaded _me_ this morning, and I came here with Deku," she points out, a hand propped on her hip for emphasis. "What I'm saying is, you can come off as a bit of a jester, so don't blame her for thinking you were just messing around."

"I've never messed around when it comes to Jirou!" Kaminari protests.

"But have you ever told her _that_?" He hasn't. Ochako must guess his answer, for she pats his shoulder encouragingly. "Don't give up yet, then!"

She's _definitely_ sweeter that Sato's cakes, and Kaminari is about to tell her that and squash her in a hug when he hears a crash and the bathroom door is banged against the wall, the sound reverberating in the shop for several moments. "What was-" Kaminari begins, but then his eyes fall on the guitar lying on the floor - the precious guitar Jirou would _never_ drop - and he's in front of the bathroom door before he can fully grasp the situation.

"Jirou?" he calls, but is only met with the sound of running water and - is it just his pessimism or is she _throwing up_ -

"I've got this," Ohako says, gently pushing him aside as she knocks on the door. "Jirou?" There's still no answer apart from a faint groan. "I'm coming in." There's a muffle of protest and more disturbing noises that make Ochako add, "It's just me, Kaminari is going back to the counter now." The man is ready to protest, but Ochako's stern look sends him padding back to the empty barista-only zone.

They're inside for about five minutes, but to Kaminari, it feels like an eternity. He taps the seconds away with one foot against the floor, as if helping the clock in producing rhythmic sounds would speed up time. To his chagrin, the seconds pass just as boringly slow, and his anxiety grows with each deafening tick-tock.

When Ochako finally comes out, she rushes to Jirou's purse and yells, "Water!" over her shoulder. Kaminari executes the order as fast as he can and Ochako grabs the glass from him without any further explanation, disappearing into the bathroom yet again.

It's yet another two minutes until she gets out, this time supporting a very pale Jirou with an arm looped around her waist. Kaminari rushes by their side and makes to grab Jirou's other hand and sling it over his neck, but Ochako keeps him at arm's length. "Your perfume is too strong and it'll only make her more nauseous again."

"It's okay," Jirou weakly offers, plopping on the first chair that's scattered into her path. Her hair is plastered to her face by a sheet of sweat, and she looks like those zombies in the movies, but all Kaminari can do is stare as he tries wrapping his head around this without making the situation worse. "Quit giving me that look, Pikachu. I'm not dead, just lactose-intolerant."

"Wha-" the words die in his throat as Kaminari realizes he's the one who prepared her drink, and he put in _milk_ \- normal milk, with 3,5% fat and all the good stuff - and kneels next to Jirou, bowing deeply. "I'm so so sorry, I had no idea you were allergic to milk I would have never-"

"Jeez, calm down," she wheezes, a mischievous tilt to her voice as Uraraka forces Kaminari to stop rubbing his forehead against the floors. He still can't bring himself to look her in the eyes, however. "Momo always prepares my drinks, so I forgot to mention it. It's actually my fault."

"No, I should have asked, that's my job and I totally failed and I can't believe you were sick I'm so so so-" A hand chops his head and Kaminari stops talking to look up at Jirou. Colour is slowly returning to her cheeks, and despite not looking in tiptop form, she has enough energy to roll her eyes at him.

"I'm going to survive this incredibly difficult task and gain some much needed XP," she solemnly says, and Kaminari dares smile a little at her joke. "Although I'll feel like shit for the rest of the day, so I should probably just go home."

"I'll walk with you!" Kaminari immediately says.

"You're sort of in the middle of work," Jirou points out, bemused.

"I can cover your shift," Uraraka offers without any hesitation and with a large beam, pumping her fist up.

Kaminari feels twice as guilty now, and he bites his lower lip as he mulls over the suggestion. One option has Jirou walking home alone in the gloomy weather and with a gloomy attitude, but the other - "Yaomomo said you overworked yourself-"

"Don't sweat it!" Ochako confidently says. "I'll call Kirishima to come in a bit earlier. And besides, the rush hour is already over!"

Kaminari scrutinizes her reassuring smile. "Are you certain?"

"Of course!" she jumps up and dusts her apron off before leaning back in to whisper conspiratorially, "Go get your girl!"

Kaminari swallows and prays that Jirou can't see the blush he's sure he's sporting. "Thanks, Ochako. You're a lifesaver!" She winks his way, skipping towards the counter and taking out her phone to contact Kirishima. "I'll cover your shift the next time!" he calls after her, before turning back to face Jirou and picking up her guitar. "So, let me help? I promise I won't screw up this time."

She blinks at him, as if he's a partiture she can't read, and eventually says, "You really don't have to."

"But I want to." Kaminari really hopes she understands that.

* * *

Momo really _should_ be taking Iida's advice and join him for a jogging session every now and then. Her joints crack after having spent five hours on her chair in front of test tubes and microscopes and more test tubes, and she hasn't even finished her research paper, but she called it quits when she started seeing double - tomorrow is a new day to be spent with her samples.

She stops when a cat crosses her path, and can't help but bend down to pet the white feline. It purrs and pushes its head against Momo's palm, the sound rumbling through its body as it wags its tail delicately. Momo can't suppress the smile tugging at her lips, so she jolts like she's been caught doing something unspeakable when her name is called.

"Momo?" The voice sounds familiar, and Momo looks up to see Shouto bending over her, curious eyes darting between her and the cat. A mad blush takes over her face when he leans over her shoulder and her mind frantically scrambles for an explanation for the sudden proximity which she had _not_ prepared her heart for.

She understands his reasoning when his hand comes to rest on the body of the feline, which rolls over for him to scratch its tummy. He's so close that Momo can see his smile puts small dimples in his cheeks, and she's overcome by an entirely different sort of warmth. He's unpredictable, as always, but he'd be boring if she could pinpoint his movements in a pattern.

And just as always, Momo jots down new information about Shouto: he likes cats.

He likes them enough to carry snacks around with him, which the cat happily gobbles from his outstretched palm. "Do you want to feed her too?" Shouto asks, shuffling away from Momo to rummage through his bag and hand some out for her.

She takes the offer without questioning why Shouto seems to be a walking cat-feeding machine, and watches as the white ball of fur sniffs at her fingers before licking her hand and eating her share. Momo giggles at the sensation, scratching the cat's jaw with her free hand.

"Her name is Eri. Or at least that's what I call her," Shouto offers, running his hand through the cat's snow white fur and smoothing out stubborn tuffs that stick out. "She's a stray that has been around for about an year now."

"How come you haven't adopted her?" The question slips out before Momo can analyse how rude it sounds. "I mean, you seem like you care a lot about her and-"

"I want to," Shouto says with a hint of sadness. "But I'm not home much and I think she'd just be lonely. Cats need affection, and that's not something I'm particularly good at showing, either," he adds as a bitter afterthought, earning a meow from the oblivious cat that turns away from Momo to rub her head against Shouto's palm again.

"I think she'd like to disagree," Momo translates, giving him an encouraging smile. "I don't know who told you that, Shouto, but you're warm." He blinks, and if one month of knowing him is anything to go by, that means she surprised him. "You _are_ ," she repeats.

After mulling this for a few moments, he asks, "Is this a pun on my body heat?"

Momo bites back a chuckle-sigh, and shakes her head gently. She doesn't know why, but she feels like touching him would scare him away, as if Shouto himself is a frightened cat, so instead, she lets her fingers sink in the white fur and says, "You're a warm person, Shouto. You're kind, and gentle, and a bit awkward sometimes." The smile she's sporting grows as she talks, mellowing out her words.

Her fingers stumble against his in the mass of plushy hair. He doesn't pull away. "I'm honored to be your friend."

That makes something shimmer in Shouto's eyes - Momo can't quite read it, but it's softening the lines of his face into something so kind and beautiful that it tugs at Momo's heartstrings. His fingers slide through hers tentatively, until her hands are completely engulfed in his bigger ones, his body heat seeping into the frozen pads of her fingers. "You really are warm," she mutters to herself, feeling a curtain of pink dust her cheeks.

"So do you think maybe I should take her home?" Shouto asks, excitement evident in his voice. When Momo nods, his face lights up as if he was just given permission to ride the best rollercoaster in the park, and she smiles at how _new_ this is to him.

Shouto cradles the cat in his arms when he gets up, holding her against his warm coat and tucking her head under his chin. He doesn't let go of Momo's hand, though. Not that she doesn't want him to - for some reason, this feels right.

The walk to his apartment, is mostly quiet, but Momo has never felt so at ease in silence before.

* * *

AN: Hi!

So no, I'm not dead, but I've had a rough month. First an interview (it went well), then a German exam (it also went well) and today a chem contest (it went... well?) Aaaanyhow though, that stress calls for an ACOM update, and I've been DYING to write this for a while, so here! I hope you've enjoyed it!  
We're reaching the conclusion to the Kamijirou arc in about two chapters, which will bring us to the next mini arc! There is still todomomo to be had, as you can see, so no worries there, and I hope you enjoy!


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